Tangled
by Rsuth
Summary: As a result of her torture at Malfoy Manor, Hermione's mind is tangled and confused, her body brutalized and tormented. Will she recover from her ordeal, or will she lose her lucid mind forever? Follow Ron and Harry as they anxiously wait at Shell Cottage to know the fate of their best friend.
1. Burning

Tangled

_DISCLAIMER: As the author of this fan fiction story I do not, in any way, profit from the story or claim any rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe. All creative rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe belong to J.K. Rowling. Thank you for letting me play in this amazing world._

_A/N: I think the Malfoy Manor scene in Deathly Hallows was one of the most important and heart-wrenching parts of the whole series. I enjoy reading fan fiction about this scene because the books were written from Harry's point of view, which leaves us wondering how Ron and Hermione felt and reacted to her torture; I love the many interpretations in fanfiction. I wanted to write my own interpretation of this scene and its aftermath, about what would happen if Hermione did not mentally and physically recover so easily from her torture, as in the book; the fate of Neville's parents was always in the back of my mind as I was writing. _

_This first chapter is Hermione's disjointed thoughts and reactions to what is happening around her as Harry and Ron are breaking out of the cellar. _

_oooooooooooooo_

CHAPTER ONE

Her body was burning. She needed to get up and get out of the tent. She needed to wake up Harry and Ron and get them out of the tent before they burned. She needed to grab their things or they would really be fucked if their few belongings were lost.

She tried to open her eyes but they were so heavy, and her hot painful skin wouldn't let her open them. She concentrated on moving her arms and her legs, needing to roll out of her bed and get to the boys.

Why is there a cold hardness under my body? Where am I? Why did I think there was a fire?

She focused on listening to her surroundings. Muffled voices reached her ears, voices that sounded angry and frantic. She needed to open her eyes and get out of there, make sure her boys were okay.

She attempted to force her eyes open once more, out of desperation. Finally her burning eyelids consented, and grey light and stone surrounded her vision, tilting dizzily at odd angles and forcing her to close them once more.

She felt, more than heard, someone walk toward her and stopped trying to move. A sudden crushing weight on her shoulders, pinning her to the cold ground, then a stinging burn in her forearm. The pain was getting worse and worse, to the point where she saw flashes of red and stars on the back of her eyelids, and she distantly heard somebody screaming, a horrible torturous sound. She felt the scream vibrate through her head and chest, and felt desperate to throw off the weight and burning and find the source of the screaming. Somebody might need her help. She couldn't just lay here, someone could be dying. Suddenly, the red was chased out of her vision, and a black inky substance slid into its place, making her feel numb, until it filled her vision and she couldn't feel or hear anything.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo 

Finally, the blackness she had sat in for a long time started to creep away. She didn't know how long she had been stuck and numb. The burning still smothered her skin, but she reminded herself she was on a cold surface, she couldn't be burning. Underneath the burning, the sensation of crackling electricity raced up and down her limbs with a painful, throbbing speed.

Something was dripping. Dripping on her arm, her face. It was a bothersome feeling, she wondered who was trying to irritate her; maybe the boys were trying to pull a prank on her. She decided to stay still and let them finish before she opened her eyes to surprise them. The same agitated voices were speaking in the background, and she wondered how noone in the room noticed she was being dripped on.

The warm dripping continued for a while, and then finally stopped. She forced her eyelids open, meaning to surprise her assailant, and saw many pairs of black shoes and bottoms of robes on the dizzily tilting floor, surrounded by bright flashes of light. Where were the Weasley's? Why couldn't she move and get off the floor? Who did this to her? Was everyone alright?

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo o

Her mind felt fuzzy and hot. She tilted her head to the side and saw so much red. Red on her arm, red on the floor, Ron's red hair across the room. Ron. He was safe, it wasn't him she had heard screaming. She tried to open her mouth to call to him but he gestured to her to stay put and stay quiet, a motion which seemed slow and choppy to her vision.

Maybe she was in the castle somewhere, which would explain the stone floor.

She wished she could remember what they were doing, why her skin burned, why Ron was asking her to be quiet and still. She felt oddly separate from her body, her thoughts jumbled and confused, the pain present but detached. She decided to close her eyes to stop the dizzy room, knowing Ron was close.

She distantly felt her body being moved, and pain flared to life in her consciousness. She had never felt anything like it, as though her skin had been badly burned, her joints broken, her flesh carved with a knife.

Her eyes flashed open confused, she was staring at the floor from a distance, her legs not holding her body upright. What was? Maybe she was in a dream, sometimes her legs wouldn't co-operate in her dreams. A cold and sharp object was suddenly touching her neck and she struggled to move her arms to remove it. They wouldn't cooperate either.

Suddenly she was falling towards the floor, a rough landing that jarred her bones and left a ringing in her ears. Something landed sharply on her head and she fell back into a black haze, faintly hearing the sound of shattering glass around her, sharp stings, and a weight upon her once more.

Maybe a window had broken, that happened often around the castle, especially around Quidditch season. Bright lights flashed on the other side of her closed eyelids and she watched the light patterns, wishing they'd stop so she could go to sleep. These post-win Gryffindor parties got so rowdy, with butterbeer and firewhiskey passed around, the twins selling their joke items and setting off indoor fireworks, and loud music and noise keeping her up until the early morning.

Couldn't anyone see she was trying to go to sleep, and stop making such as racket?

Suddenly the weight was lifted off her once more, and she was picked up off the floor and cradled in warm arms. The body that held hers was breathing hard and trembling, heart pounding hard against her, clenching her tight to themselves. She opened her heavy eyes to the spinning world and stared up at the face of the person who was carrying her. Ron. She tried to tell him that carrying her should not tire him out so badly, but that he could take her to bed upstairs if he insisted on carrying her around, thank you very much. He must be ignoring her because he didn't respond, his eyes focused on the room around them. Someone had probably set off a firework, or eaten one of the twin's puking pastels, or passed out on the common room carpet again. She turned her aching head to look in that direction, confused when she didn't see the red and gold carpets and armchairs of the common room.

So many black robes and coloured flashes of spells moved slowly through her vision, grotesque faces leering at them, snarling. A flash of a coloured shoe nearby and she was sure she saw Harry, holding his wand in front of him protectively while he threw something at them, yelling something in words she could neither understand or hear. She felt Ron move sharply, and suddenly she was drowning, the weight of the water pushing down on her chest, unable to move her arms or legs and swim to the surface to take a breath.

Suddenly she was pulled from the water and dropped. She took a deep gasping breath of cool air, crying out as the motion caused her body to burn, hot tears dripping down her face.

She could feel something cold and gritty underneath her fingertips. Sand. How did she get in the water in the first place? She hadn't been on a beach holiday in years. The coolness soothed her pain slightly and she lay still, taking shallow breaths. She finally opened her eyes and saw a grey sky, filled with clouds that seemed to be stretching down to her, trying to touch her. She watched, mesmerized. There was a flash of red in the corner of her eye but she ignored it, not wanting to take her eyes of the clouds. They made her feel…warm. The clouds made her feel sleepy and she abided them, closing her eyes and letting herself drift into nothing.

To be continued…


	2. The Manor

Tangled 

by Rsuth

_DISCLAIMER: As the author of this fan fiction story I do not, in any way, profit from the story or claim any rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe. All creative rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe belong to J.K. Rowling. Thank you for letting me play in this amazing world._

CHAPTER TWO

Ron was sure his heart was going to beat out of his chest, and the veins in his temples were going to explode. He was standing still but couldn't catch his breath, his lungs seemed to have shrunk inside his heaving chest. He was sure the dark wizards standing in the drawing room in front of them would be able to hear Hermione's screams echoing from his memory; he couldn't stop hearing them loudly even though she stopped screaming minutes ago. He was terrified she had stopped screaming, in a sick way at least it meant she was still alive. He shook his head slowly and quietly, trying to force those thoughts out of his mind. She had to be alive. She had to. He hadn't even told her yet…

Ron jumped slightly when he felt a warm hand touch his arm. His head whipped to the side, and saw Harry give him a sympathetic look as he held his finger up to his lips in silence. Harry was right though, Ron needed to pull himself together if they had any chance of escape. If the wizards in the next room turned around and noticed he and Harry had escaped from the dungeon it would all be over, they would never get Hermione and themselves out of here. Harry gave him a squeeze on the arm, and nodded towards the slightly open door, moving to stand to the side of it. Ron followed and for a moment couldn't bear to peek into the drawing room, afraid of what he might find. He felt his heart pound even harder, a sensation that seemed to reverberate down to his wand, as he moved to look into the room.

Hermione lay on her side facing him, white, quiet, eyes open and glassy, on the far side of the room at the feet of the Malfoys and Lestrange. Blood pooled around her arm on the cold stone floor, dripping into a puddle. Ron clamped a hand over his mouth, sure he was looking at a body. Hot blood rushed into his head and face, hot tears began to pool in his eyes. They were too late, Merlin they were too late. He couldn't feel his arms and legs to move away from the doorway, he was frozen in place staring at her still body. He could feel something pulling at his frozen arm, but he couldn't respond.

Suddenly, Hermione's chest moved quickly, in a gasping motion, and began to move shallowly, almost unnoticeable to anyone but Ron, he was certain. He took a giant relieved breath, fresh air finally flooding to his lungs and brains, tingling his fingertips back to life. He felt Harry squeeze his shoulder once more, hearing him take his own quiet relieved breath, and knew he had seen her breathe as well. She was still alive, they had both seen it. There was hope.

Ron continued watching Hermione, not able to take his eyes from her, from her moving chest. Suddenly Ron knew she had seen him, her glassy eyes focusing on his face. He unconsciously held his breath, desperately wanting her to see him and know he was coming for her, but terrified she would give them away. His heart clenched with the knowledge that she was not only breathing, but was conscious enough to acknowledge him. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought.

Hermione opened her mouth, as if she was going to call out to them, and Ron panicked. He made the 'stay' motion with his hands, and put his finger to his lips, hoping she would understand. He watched, relieved, as she shut her eyes and became still once more, her breathing still visible from across the room.

Ron turned his head slightly to look at Harry, wondering what they should do now. Harry caught his eye and nodded toward the conversation happening in the drawing room, the light from the slightly open door gleaming eerily off his smudged glasses. He nodded back and tried to focus his addled mind on what was happening in front of him.

For a moment he wished he hadn't. They were still arguing about the validity of the sword, and who would get to call _you-know-who_. Suddenly Ron heard Bellatrix LeStrange speak, and he was running into the room, wand out, Harry following behind by the sound of his squeaky shoes.

"And I think we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her."

He was sure he was watching himself disarm Bellatrix LeStrange, firing spells at the snatchers and death eaters in the room. He felt detached from his body, his wand responding before his brain. He tried to find Hermione on the floor in the chaos, but he needed to stay focused on the fight if he was to have any chance at getting her out of here. He could feel spells rushing by him as he ran about the room, making the hair on his arms stand up straight. He vaguely witnessed Harry stupefy Lucius Malfoy. His breath was rushing out of his lungs faster than he could draw it in, but his wand arm was miraculously steady.

Suddenly time stopped.

"STOP OR SHE DIES!...Drop your wands. Drop them, or we'll see exactly how filthy her blood is…"

Ron felt as though the blood was draining from his body. LeStrange was holding up a limp Hermione with one white arm around her torso, the other gripping a knife too tightly against Hermione's taught neck. He knew she was awake to some degree for this, her fingers twitching as the knife dug deeper and blood began to trickle down her neck.

The room was frozen around them, everyone waiting for their reaction, he reasoned. They each had something the other wanted. He quickly tried to weigh their options…give up their wands, or keep them and hope Bellatrix didn't cut the knife in farther. Either way they were trapped. He felt stuck between throwing his wand down to the floor, and running at Bellatrix. His body seemed to be screaming at him to move!

Suddenly he saw Harry bend beside him to place his wand on the floor. He wouldn't give these animals the pleasure of seeing him bend down to them too, and threw his borrowed wand to his feet, keeping his eyes on Hermione. The blood was pooling on the collar of her jumper, and Ron couldn't take his eyes off her white skin and the streaks of red. He distantly heard Draco being ordered to pick up their wands, but instead of watching this happen he willed Hermione to open her eyes. He was desperate to tell her, if this was the last time they would see each other, that he wanted her to know that he was so happy that they had met and become friends. That he would never trade the adventures he had with her and Harry for a normal life. That he was sorry he ever made her cry. That he loved her.

But she continued to lay limp and lifeless in Bellatrix' strong hold.

Interrupting the tense silence of the room, and the rapid thoughts in his head, he heard a strange noise, and noticed the whole room was looking towards the ceiling. It took him a moment to focus on what everyone was staring at, and saw Dobby sitting on a lifeless black glass chandelier above Bellatrix' head.

A groan of metal was the only warning that was given before the chandelier fell heavily to the floor below, erupting in a wave of shimmering glass shards, burying Hermione where Bellatrix had dropped her before she had run out of the way.

He was running toward the glass wreckage, hearing the shards of glass crunch beneath his feet, pieces cutting through the soles of his worn sneakers. Ignoring his discomfort he grabbed hold of the iron frame and flung it onto its back from him, his hard pumping heart seeming to give him strength.

The shimmering glass on the floor in front of him was flecked with red, giving it the eerie look of bloody snow. Ron loosely remembered falling of his broom at the Burrow in winter, his bloodied nose making the same effect in the white snow.

Hermione lay crumpled on her side, a layer of glass covering her shoulders and legs. Her clothes were wet in patches, Ron was sure it was blood. He shakily brushed off the glass as best he could, ignoring the shards that stuck themselves into his hands. Under his shaking hands he could feel her ribs move, and he knew she was still with them.

Desperate to hold her close, Ron gently rolled Hermione onto her back and tucked her sprawled arms onto her stomache before he lifted her to his chest and turning to face the chaos of the room again. He felt Hermione move against him, snuggling her face into his chest, and making his stomache flutter. For a quick moment, he felt ashamed of himself for giving into his teenage awkwardness at a time like this. He hitched Hermione up closer to himself and looked for his other best friend.

He found Harry nearby, seemingly protecting him while he had dealt with the chandelier. Harry had three wands clenched in his hand, and Ron looked just in time to witness Greyback thrown with a sick crunch against the wall by the combined force of the three wands. Sick fuck, he deserved more than that…

Harry spotted him, and threw one of the three wands to him.

"Ron, catch- and GO!"

He caught the knobbly wand with a swipe of his hand, and without a second thought turned on the spot to disapparate them both. Shell Cottage. Bill and Fleur's. Shell Cottage…

He felt his lungs being squeezed to tightly as he travelled, and felt Hermione struggling slightly in his arms, her body jerking sporadically.

His feet hit hard onto an uneven surface, causing him to fall to his knees. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, the world spinning around him dizzily from the double apparition. Something was missing. Hermione wasn't in his arms….HERMIONE WASN'T IN HIS ARMS.

Ron struggled to open his eyes, fighting his spinning vision. He saw a dark object against a bright background and began crawling towards it, willing to give up anything for it to be Hermione. Wetness seeped through the knees of his jeans, and what felt like sand stung the glass cuts on his hand. Suddenly his vision cleared and he heart skipped a beat when he realized that it was her. He stood up and ran the rest of the distance to her, sitting down on his knees beside her pale body in the wet sand. Hermione lay on her back, arms and legs at awkward angles, her bloodshot eyes wide open and staring at the sky. He placed two fingers on her neck, trying to find a pulse underneath the slick blood, and felt a slow weak beat. He covered his hand with his sleeve and applied pressure to the gash on her neck.

"Hermione…" he tried calling to her, his voice sounding harsh and gravelly to his ears. She didn't respond. "Hermione…you're safe now," he tried more persistently. Her eyes drooped shut and her head fell sideways to lean against his knee. Ron panicked as he looked over her body and saw a liberal amount of blood seeping through her clothes, covering the sand beneath her. He looked around desperately and saw a small cottage in the distance. Shell Cottage.

Just then, a small figure opened the door and ran onto the beach. Ron could feel hot tears dripping down his face as he realized it was his brother, his telltale red hair being whipped around in the cool breeze. They were safe now. They would have help.

"BILL," he shouted as loud as he could, wincing at the soreness in his throat. "HELP!"

His brother turned to look in their direction and began running down the beach towards them, a look of panic on his face as he got close enough for Ron to make out.

Bill was suddenly at Ron's side, falling to his knees and clenching him in a bear hug at the same time. Ron hugged him back, letting himself be soothed for a moment, then pulled away.

"Hermione…Bill, help her, please help her, she's bleeding, she was tortured…" he was rambling rapidly, watching Bill look over Hermione, his hands hovering over her as if he didn't know where to place them first. He finally settled one of his rough hands on Ron's arm as he continued to hold his sleeve to her neck.

"We need to get her inside, Ron, I can help her there. Do you want to carry her?" Bill looked at him with sympathetic face that Ron had rarely seen. He simply nodded and stood, letting Bill help him lift her gently off the ground and back into his arms, where she belonged.

To be continued…

_A/N: I thought that Ron's perception of the events in Malfoy Manor would have been slightly similar to that of Hermione's, in that I felt as though his thoughts would have been scrambled and disjointed. I put a lot of thought into this, and tried to put myself in Ron's shoes for this chapter. I will be switching the chapters from the viewpoints of Hermione and Ron to give two sides of one story, so the next one will be about Hermione. _

_I've been so surprised by the positive response I had to the first chapter of the story. Thanks for all the great reviews and follows, it's really inspiring to know that other readers are enjoying my story and writing! _


	3. Sand

Tangled 

by Rsuth

_DISCLAIMER: As the author of this fan fiction story I do not, in any way, profit from the story or claim any rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe. All creative rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe belong to J.K. Rowling. Thank you for letting me play in this amazing world._

CHAPTER THREE

Ron was sure the house was moving farther away as he tenderly walked towards the small cottage on the grey beach. He was moving slowly, Bill walking awkwardly beside him keeping one hand pressed against Hermione's slick bleeding neck, the other on Ron's back. Ron was torn between rushing across the expanse of beach, and walking carefully as he had been, mindful of jostling Hermione in his arms. The sticky blood seeping through his worn sweater was making it hard to be slow, but Bill's firm hand kept him walking as steadily as he could.

He could hear Bill's deep rumbling voice, but couldn't seem to be able to make his brain listen to the words. One foot in front of the other, watching as the cottage moved closer, was all he could manage right now. He could feel his body trembling, the adrenaline from their ordeal starting to wear off, a tiredness seeping into his muscles and thoughts. He felt oddly detached and light-headed, his head too light, his feet like lead.

Hermione's limp body began to slip in his arms and he stopped to gently lift her higher against his chest. She was so light; he could feel the bones of her legs and her back pressing into his forearms. She'd always been small, but travelling for nearly a year without proper meals…Suddenly her forehead lolled against his bare neck, the coldness of her skin startling him out of his thoughts. He realized he had stopped, his feet sinking in the wet sand. Bill was standing in front of him searching his face, with his bloody hands braced on Ron's shoulders.

"…Ron, are you hearing anything I've been saying? Can you hear me? Are you alright? I can take Hermione, we need to get her inside…you don't look too well, either…"

Ron couldn't seem to open his mouth to talk, so instead just willed his feet to continue moving, Bill stepping out of the way but bracing a hand under Hermione's back and one around his shoulders to help him. They were close, he could see a figure standing in front of the cottage, long pale hair snapping in the wind. Fleur. She watched them for a moment and then hurried into the house.

Suddenly a crack echoed across the beach, and Ron stopped to look for the source of the noise as he awkwardly yanked his wand out of his back pocket, ready to run if necessary. Bill did the same. Three figures lay on the beach a ways away, two small bodies and one larger. The larger body staggered to its feet, and Ron sighed in relief at the sight of his best friend. Bill, however, did not seem to recognize the boy-who-lived.

"It's Harry…" Ron rasped out, finally able to make his brain connect to his mouth. Harry's black messy hair now touched his shoulders, matching the shadow of black stubble on his pale face, all of them too weary to care about their appearances anymore. He watched as Harry knelt down beside one of the small bodies, lifting it halfway into his arms and appearing to speak to it. "Bill…help him…please, I know it's him…"

Bill looked into his eyes and gave a quick nod. "Get Hermione inside, wrap her in some blankets, and put pressure on the bleeding. Tell Fleur I'll need the full medical kit, but don't let her heal anything yet. I'll be back as soon as I can, I'll help Harry, you keep her safe…"

Ron nodded numbly and set his site on the house once more, dragging his heavy feet as quickly as he dared. He finally reached the cobblestone pathway to the door, feeling protection wards allow him to pass through. He eased Hermione through the front door, stepping sideways, and stood staring into the familiar stone cottage. Noone had noticed him enter. Luna was lying on the worn sofa in the small sitting room, allowing Dean to help her sip something from a cup. He could hear footsteps on the upstairs creaky floor, a door opening and closing.

Ron forced himself out of his staring daze.

"FLEUR!" he called loudly, not caring if the others needed quiet. His feet were moving them towards the staircase, his arms and legs trembling slightly as he carried his precious cargo up the ancient stairs.

Fleur suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, out of breath and white-faced. He stopped moving and they stared at each other, her pale eyes taking in the blood and sand that covered them both. She rushed down the few stairs to them and brought a shaking hand to Hermione's wrist. After a moment she shut her eyes and took a visible deep breath. When she opened her eyes she spoke to him with resolve on her face, but all he could hear was "upstairs…blue bedroom…" over the pounding of his heart, and the weak flutter of Hermione's heart against his ribs. Fleur was reaching towards Hermione, perhaps to help him, but he pushed by her and finished his climb up the stairs.

Time seemed to slow down for Ron, but finally he reached the bedroom door and kicked it open, footsteps behind him vaguely registering as Fleur following him. He reached the side of the too-white fluffy bed but couldn't seem to be able to put Hermione down, his arms reluctant to let her go again.

He felt something warm touch his shaking arm, and looked down to see Fleur trying to encourage him to let Hermione go. He heard her speak this time.

"Please Ron…you need to let her go if we're going to help her…you don't need to leave her…"

He knew she was right, but he couldn't make his body cooperate, the fear was still too close. Fleur tightened her hold on his arm and started easing his bruised elbow from underneath Hermione's knees, replacing it with her strong arms. "Please, Ron…everything is okay now, she's safe…" she pleaded with him.

Slowly, Ron gained control of his body again, and started lowering Hermione down to the duvet-covered bed with Fleur's help. He grabbed the edges of the white comforter and pulled them around Hermione, only leaving her impossibly grey face exposed.

Suddenly Ron felt the bed moving and he broke his focus from Hermione. He looked up and saw Fleur kneeling on the other side of the bed, a look of horror on her face as she looked Hermione and himself over.

"Ron…wh-…"

Ron started to feel clarity through his horror, knowing he couldn't fall apart right now, he had to help Hermione. His voice sounded foreign to ears, strained and weak. "Bill…said we need to keep her warm and…and try to stop the bleeding. Needs his medical kit…don't do anything without him…"

Fleur didn't respond, but simply walked out of the room, tight-lipped and white faced. After what seemed like an hour, but was most likely just a moment she was back, her arms full with another blanket, towels, and a leather bag. She placed them on the floor, then lowered herself back onto the bed with Ron, running her analyzing eyes over Hermione's still form. Ron grabbed one of the towels and pressed it against Hermione's neck.

"Ron…we need to get her clothing off, we need to see her wounds…I'll need you to stay and help me, can you do that?" Ron wondered why she was speaking to him like he was a child, but didn't say anything, instead nodding his head. Of course he would be staying, he'd almost lost her once, and wouldn't be leaving her side again. Ever.

He pulled back the white blanket, and felt bile rise in his throat at the amount of red blood staining the white comforter already. Hermione's blood. He swallowed hard, trying to force down his sick and guilt.

Fleur pulled her wand out of her pocket and muttering a spell ran it down the front of Hermione's jumper. The cloth ripped in a straight line.

"Ron, I need you to lift her up slightly so I can slip her jumper off," he heard Fleur speak softly to him. He carefully edged his hands underneath Hermione's back and lifted her back off the bed, her head and arms hanging limply. Fleur peeled the sleeves off Hermione's arms, wet with sticky blood, and pulled the ripped sweater from underneath her. Suddenly Ron's hands were touching the bare skin on Hermione's back, slipping slightly in smeared blood. He lowered her back down onto the bed and heard Fleur gasp and walk to his side. She gently picked up Hermione's limp bloody arm and turned it slightly. Ron saw a number of oozing slices on the inside of her arm, looking raw and puffy underneath the red. Fleur suddenly grabbed a towel, gave him a quick glance, and quickly wrapped it around Hermione's arm, tucking a second firmly around her frail frame to catch the bleeding from the numerous glass cuts.

Fleur moved to pull off Hermione's shoes and socks, and Ron saw the blue beaded bag fall to the floor. He reached down and grabbed it quickly before Fleur could get it, stuffing it into his back pocket. He looked up at the French woman and saw she had paused in taking off the other shoe to watch him, a questioning look on her face. Ron ignored her by looking back down to Hermione, knowing he would have to relive some of what happened to his brother and his wife, but not ready to do so yet.

Suddenly he heard a ripping noise and looked up to Fleur cutting down the front of Hermione's ruined pants. She looked up at him expectantly, with a sympathetic grimace on her face, and Ron swallowed hard when he realized she wanted him to help her remove Hermione's pants. He was aware of his heart beating hard, and felt ridiculous that he was nervous of doing this in these circumstances, but couldn't help it.

He moved his trembling hands underneath Hermione's thighs and lifted her gently, averting his eyes while Fleur pulled the fabric away, and covered her legs with the blanket again. He couldn't help but notice that her skin was smooth, that he could feel the muscles under her skin against his hand. He placed her legs back down gently and forced himself again to remove his hands.

He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and looked behind him to see Bill whispering a quick conversation to Fleur, who nodded her head at her husband, glanced at Ron and Hermione, and left the room. Bill squeezed his shoulder and quickly moved to kneel on the far side of the bed, grimacing as he took in the amount of blood on the bed and soaking through the towels covering Hermione's upper body and arm. Bill placed his hands on the edge of the blanket and looked at Ron. He realized his brother was asking for his consent, so nodded to the older brother he had entrusted with their lives.

"Maybe you should sit down, Ron, you look ready to fall down…" He listened to his brother without protest and sat down on the edge of the bed, grasping Hermione's cold hand in his own.

Bill moved the blanket away, and Ron felt his stomache roll as he took in the blood, bruises, and too-pale skin that covered her body. His brother's face turned hard as he looked Hermione over as well, his sharp wolf senses likely sensing more than could be seen with the eye.

Remaining silent, Bill drew out his wand, unnecessarily signalled Ron to stay quiet, and closed his eyes as he hovered his wand horizontally over her body. Suddenly his hand jerked and he dropped his wand onto the floor as if it had burned him. The wand was vibrating and shooting black sparks from where it was twitching on the floor.

Bill lifted his eyes to Ron with a stunned look on his face.

"Ron…don't tell me she's been tortured…" Bill looked to him for confirmation, and Ron placed his head into his hands as he felt held-back tears start to prickle his eyes.

"Ron, you need to tell me what happened RIGHT NOW" Bill uttered frantically, "I know you're all sworn to secrecy, but I can't help her unless I know what spells were used."

"Bellatrix, she…she-" Ron scrubbed at his face and eyes with the palms of his hands, trying to push back the images that were replaying over and over behind his eyes.

"Hermione was tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange at Malfoy Manor, she used Crucio, I don't know for how long, it seemed like an eternity…so many times. We were put in the dungeons below, we don't know what else happened to her. We saw Bellatrix cut her neck with a black metal knife, and a chandelier fell on top of her. That's all we can tell you." Harry's familiar voice was scared but firm as he answered Bill's question. Ron looked behind him with blurry eyes and saw Harry standing rigidly, eyes wide as he stared at the damage on Hermione's body. "Bill, please help her…this is my fault, it's all my fault…"

Suddenly Hermione's hand twitched in Ron's and her eyelids flew open, her bloodshot eyes dripping tears down her cheek, her chest taking fast gasping breaths. Bill reacted first and leaned over her, trying to get her attention.

"Hermione, it's Bill, you're safe now, and you're going to feel better soon. Hermione, can you hear me? Just calm down, I know you're in pain, we're going to help you…" Bill's voice was quiet and calm, and Ron reached a shaking hand over to touch her face until he noticed it was covered a blood, and instead pulled it back so he didn't frighten her.

"STOP, PLEASE, DON'T HURT THEM!" Hermione suddenly screamed out with a hoarse voice, trying to push their reassuring hands off her. Before anyone could stop her she had rolled onto her side towards Ron and cried out sharply at the movement. Ron disregarded his bloody hands and rubbed his hand up and down her arm, trying to comfort her.

"Hermione, calm down, we're at Bill and Fleur's, you're safe now, we got away. Harry's here too." He told her gently, letting the tears run down his cheeks unchecked as he watched her gasp from the pain, her eyes rolling around as if she couldn't focus them.

"Ron?" she rasped out quietly, looking around the room blindly.

Ron grasped her hand in his, "I'm right here, Hermione, right here…"

"Ron, don't tell…don't tell my parents wh- what happened, they won't understand," she choked out, "They'll take me away… I won't be able to protect him anymore. Sirius is so…important to Harry…they wouldn't understand why…" her eyes gradually closed, and she became still again, her breathing shallow, her hand limp in Ron's.

He sat confused for a moment, not understanding what she was talking about. Harry seemed to figure it out faster.

"Fifth year…Department of Mysteries…" he muttered.

Ron continued to sit holding tight to Hermione's hand and watching her face, the implications of what Harry had just said running through his mind at a dizzying pace. Hermione was confused, and had just been tortured by a madwoman, of course she wouldn't know what was going on. Yeah, that was probably it. There was no way she could end up with a scrambled brain, this is Hermione. She'll be fine, they'll heal her, and after she rests she will be fine. They'll all be fine, and walk away from this horror of a year, forget about it and grow old together, all three of them together. She'll be fine, please Merlin let her be fine.

Ron looked up to question his brother, needing reassurance that this would all be okay. Bill was again holding his wand over Hermione, Fleur having appeared by his side. Ron watched as his brother once more dropped his wand, shaking his hand in pain. Ron couldn't help himself,

"Bill…her mind…is…is she…?"

Bill and Fleur looked up at Ron, then Harry behind him. Bill spoke tentatively.

"Ron…Harry…It's hard to say right now, she could just be disoriented from the ordeal, from the pain. What we need to worry about right now is the black magic that is still attached to her, it's preventing me from performing any healing spells. This happens with extensive black curses, they attach itself to the magical core, tries to stay alive. Fights back, in a way. And with the extent of what happened to Hermione…We're going to have to try to heal her non-magically, I've had to do it before with other curses, the black magic _should_ wear off eventually. I can't guarantee anything, but I'll try my best. What she really needs is a hospital…"

Ron felt a fog drift into his head again, and he found it hard to see the room around him. Hermione wasn't fine, she might not recover. This was his fault, he couldn't get to her fast enough, wasn't smart enough to figure it out in time. Her cold blood was soaked through his shirt and pants because of him.

The fog was beginning to annoy him. His eyes felt so heavy, he couldn't help but just submit to closing them for a moment, waiting for them to clear. Something kept shaking his shoulder but he couldn't seem to tell whatever it was to leave him alone, that he just needed a moment. His body felt so achingly tired, so he just let it slip down the edge of the bed to sit on the floor. He wouldn't leave Hermione, he wouldn't leave her side again.

Everything went dark.

_A/N: Hi everyone! It's been such a great experience reading all of your reviews and helpful suggestions for this story. I'm sorry it's taken me a while to get this chapter posted, I've been working on it gradually. I need to be in the mood to write, or what I write just doesn't turn out very well! I thought initially I would write this chapter about Hermione's perspective but felt this should come first. At this point I will be drifting away from the book's storyline a bit, I think things would have gone differently at Shell Cottage._

_I wrote this chapter from Ron's perspective with the idea that he wouldn't be fine just because they escaped. I mean, the three of them were just captured by the enemy, and he was held in a dungeon listening to Hermione be tortured and not able to do anything. I imagined Ron to be affected by this, trying to function after having experienced something really traumatic. He's unaware that he's in shock, fading in and out of awareness. I hope you all still like where this story is going. _


	4. Bright Lights

Tangled 

by Rsuth

_DISCLAIMER: As the author of this fanfiction story I do not, in any way, profit from the story or claim any rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe. All creative rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe belong to J.K. Rowling. Thank you for letting me play in this amazing world._

CHAPTER FOUR

Lights started to appear in the darkness, floating around lazily in different colours, pulsing and throbbing. She tried to ignore them, wanting to be left alone. They seemed to get larger the more she tried to ignore them, getting closer to her eyes, forcing her to watch them.

She began to feel the lights, feel flashes of icy cold and throbbing heat as they got closer, closer. She couldn't fight them off, push them away. She couldn't move. She needed to get away, get away from the sensations. She wanted to go backwards into the darkness, where nothing could find her, where she was safe.

She couldn't move. She couldn't fight it, couldn't ignore it, so she just allowed it.

Finally the throbbing lights began to move away. She waited to be left in the comforting darkness again. Instead, as she watched the lights move away the throbbing heat began to grow stronger, sharper, painful. Began to spread beyond her vision. Throb and burn, and although she couldn't see them she knew they was hurting her. She needed to find them and stop them.

She focused on the lights, focused on finding them, finding their pain. She began to feel a clarity as she pushed away the tempting darkness, focused on the pain.

Gradually the darkness began to clear, and she realized that the pain wasn't around her, taunting her. It was coming from inside her, trying to make itself known by penetrating the protective darkness she was hiding in, drawing her back to awareness.

She remembered that she had a body, and concentrated on finding it in the dark, needing to stop the throbbing pain. She felt her consciousness reach down to tentatively touch her shoulders, chest, and arms, and spread down to her fingertips and toes.

It was like fire, like chemicals had been poured into her veins. The throbbing became unbearable, the fire hot and burning. She tried to move her body to get away from the heat, to get away from the pain. She couldn't move, couldn't communicate to her arms and legs to even twitch. She began to panic. She needed to move, she needed to get out of here. She needed to find her friends and get them out of here, what if they were hurt? Suddenly sound entered Hermione's conscience, and she had been in the dark for so long that it surprised her. Murmuring voices, deep and light. She couldn't tell which direction they were coming from, couldn't make out what they were saying. What if they weren't her friends, what if they were the enemy? She felt some wet and warm touch her back, felt a dizzying sensation with pressure on her back. The lights exploded close to her vision again, the fire burning hotter as it raced up and down her frozen body. Abruptly they disappeared again and she was left in the warmth of the dark, the fire having left her alone once again.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She could hear voices. They echoed around in the dark, trying to demand her attention. She tried to ignore them, the noise painful and sharp.

Strained words began to emerge from the murmuring, stirring her from the back of the darkness. "RIGHT NOW…Bellatrix…help…" She could hear Harry and Ron's voices now, and a deeper one she didn't recognize. She needed to move, she needed to get out of the dark so she could help them. She focused on moving, the burning flaring up and down her arms and legs, threatening to push her back into the darkness.

She could feel something holding her wrist, probably holding her down. She concentrated on moving it, trying to pull it away, ignoring the screaming pain that was shooting through her body at the movement. She was suddenly aware that her eyes were closed and she cracked them open, blinded by the bright light that flooded in, so different from the warmth of the dark. She saw figures moving around her, leering at her, staring at her. She couldn't see them, couldn't see their faces, could only make out their shapes. Where were Harry and Ron? Had they been taken too? What had happened?

One of the bodies leaned down over her, ragged scars illuminated across his face. It spoke to her but she couldn't understand what it was saying. His body tilted dizzily and quickly and she couldn't make it stop spinning long enough to see his face clearly. She needed to get away, to save Harry and Ron, it was up to her. It was her duty.

Hands grabbed her, trying to hold her down.

"STOP, PLEASE, DON'T HURT THEM!" She pleaded with them, the movement shooting daggers through her sore throat. She forced her floppy, weak arms to push away the hands, needing to get away from them. She rolled her body onto her side, meaning to stand up and run, but the motion caused the fire to burn harder, darkness creeping into the sides of her eyes, making her want to close them. She blinked hard and looked around her, trying to figure out where she was before the darkness took her again. It was too bright and white, with grey shadows moving across the ceiling. The room was tilting dangerously around her, distorted. The blackness was closing in.

A familiar voice called her back.

"Hermione, calm down…safe now…got away. Harry's here…" Ron. It was Ron. She'd know his voice anywhere. She heard it every day. She heard it in her dreams. She called out for him, needing him, desperate to make sure they were okay. "Ron?" She didn't care that it hurt to speak.

Something warm touched her arm, and she realized how cold she was. His warm scent surrounded her and she let it comfort her, let it fight the burning of her body.

"I'm right here, Hermione, right here…" It was him. Ron was with her, he was okay. Harry was okay.

She must be in the hospital wing. The whiteness, the bright lights. The last thing she remembered was…..the Department of Mysteries. Harry. She had gone to help Harry save Sirius. She knew it was a trap, but how could she let him go without her. It was her duty to protect him. Last thing she remembered was being hit in the chest. A silent curse. Pain. And then nothing. Darkness. They must have got her back to Hogwarts, they must have escaped. Harry was fine. She would have to go home for the summer soon, she couldn't let her parents know she was hurt, they wouldn't let her be around Harry anymore. She wouldn't be able to protect him.

The darkness was once again closing in on her, she had to tell Ron, she needed to protect Harry.

"Ron, don't tell…don't tell my parents wh- what happened, they won't 'll take me away… I won't be able to protect him anymore. Sirius is so…important to Harry…they wouldn't understand why…"

It was pushing on her now, promising her relief from the pain if she would just submit, just close her eyes. Ron was here. Harry was here. They would protect her for now, she could sleep without worrying.

Darkness closed in.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooo

_A/N: This was a shorter chapter, but I thought it was necessary before I could continue the story. The story will pick up a bit from here._

_Thank you to everyone who has read my story, left a review, or is following it. I'm fairly new to posting fan fiction online, and it is truly an amazing feeling to know so many people have read my story. A special thank you to those who have left me such positive reviews, or are checking the 'follow' button. It really does brighten the day, and encourage me to keep writing. _

_Next chapter should be posted pretty soon!_


	5. Red

Tangled 

by Rsuth

_DISCLAIMER: As the author of this fanfiction story I do not, in any way, profit from the story or claim any rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe. All creative rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe belong to J.K. Rowling. Thank you for letting me play in this amazing world._

CHAPTER FIVE

Ron could hear, or more rather feel, mumbling voices nearby. A deep baritone seemed to make the buzzing in his head grow louder, a higher voice pierced painfully through his forehead. Although he was still asleep enough that his body was heavy and lifeless, his hands felt swollen and raw. His muscles were tight and strained. It hurt to swallow. His eyelids felt heavy and dry. He struggled to wake up and open his eyes, trying to pull his body away from the deep sleep it was trying to force him back into.

He didn't know where he was. He could feel something soft under his head, warmth above him, hardness under his back. He needed to wake up, make sure they were safe, make sure Harry and Hermione were safe. He felt scared, the remnants of a bad dream pushing at his subconscious. He tried to remember what the bad dream had been about, and started to remember bits and pieces. In his dream they had been captured, forced to go to Malfoy Manor, threatened by Greyback and Bellatrix…Hermione had been tortured…_Hermione had been tortured_…

Ron fought with his body to wake up, trying to force his heavy eyes open. He was successful for a moment as he managed to crack his eyelids open, but shut them again quickly as the dark room spun around him. He must be back in the tent, that would explain the uncomfortable bed. If he was in the tent that meant they were okay, they had been okay enough to apparate and set up the tent.

Someone must have seen him open his eyes because he felt a warm hand on his arm. "Ron, are you awake?" Harry. He blinked his eyes open and closed for a while until the room stopped spinning around him. His body reluctantly woke up, and he was able to move his sore hands under the blanket, wiggle his toes. He opened his eyes fully to see a fuzz- looking Harry looking down at him.

"How do you feel? Can you hear me?" Harry's voice sounded panicked, strained.

Ron struggled to form words, his mouth almost too dry to move, his throat filled with shards of glass.

A cup of water was at his lips. He took a long draw, letting the water linger in his mouth before he swallowed it slowly. Harry was still with him, holding the cup as he drank.

"Did Hermione splinch me, again?" He mumbled, trying half-heartedly to make a joke.

Harry sat in silence above him, causing an uneasy feeling to settle over Ron. He eventually spoke.

"Ron…do you know where you are?"

"Well, seeing as I'm laying on this god-awful hard bunk…the tent. Where's 'Mione, keeping watch?" he croaked out, feeling exhausted by simply speaking. He let his eyes close to gather some strength.

"Ron…" Harry voice sounded quietly desperate, worried. Ron forced his eyes open again, trying to focus them on Harry in the swirling darkness. "Ron, we're at Shell Cottage, with Bill and Fleur, don't you remember? Please tell me you do, please, not you too…" Harry trailed off, mumbling to himself.

Something triggered in Ron, jolting his memory, freeing him from his stupor. That wasn't a dream. That wasn't a dream. Dear Merlin, that wasn't a dream. They'd been captured…Bellatrix LeStrange…he'd brought them to Bill's…_Hermione_…

"Hermione!" He croaked, struggling to push his aching body up. Strong arms supported him behind his back, helping him sit up. Once he had his breathing under control, and the spots cleared from his eyes, he turned his head slightly to see who he was leaning against. Bill. His older brother was watching him with concerned eyes, holding him in a way that, for some reason, triggered a memory of being a small child, leaning against the older Bill as he read him a bedtime story. He wasn't embarrassed by the contact, but rather was comforted by the closeness of his brother.

"Hermione is…okay for now. She's sleeping, healing. We won't know anything for a while. Right now I'm concerned about you." Ron felt his anxiety lessen a bit. Hermione was okay. Bill was taking care of her.

"Wha-"

"You brought her here, Ron, you made sure she was safe. You got her out alive… You were in shock…passed out. You've been out of it for a while now…I'm relieved you're awake. I was afraid to move you, so just left you on the floor…Harry's been watching over you, and Hermione." A squeeze to his shin let him know where Harry was, and Ron moved his head slowly to look at his best friend.

"Thanks mate." Harry looked terrible. Pale. Large black bruises under his eyes. Blood and rips all over his dirty clothing. He smiled, relieved, back at Ron. "You okay?"

Harry nodded and looked down, his smile leaving his face quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine, can't say the same for everyone else though…"

"Never mind that now, Harry, everyone is fine." Bill interjected quietly, before Ron could question him. Ron thought he saw a look pass between Harry and his brother, but was too worn out to care.

" Hermione," Ron finally interrupted the silence. Bill nodded sadly, holding Ron steady as he stood up from where he had been kneeling behind him. He bent down to thread his arm behind Ron's back and slowly hoisted him up, holding on patiently as Ron's legs refused to stopped wobbling, and the room kept spinning. Ron placed his forehead down on his brother's shoulder as Bill shuffled him a few steps and helped him sit down on something soft. Ron finally opened his eyes, the dizziness and nausea having left him for a moment. He was sitting on the edge of a bed. Hermione was laying quietly in the middle, hardly noticeable for the amount of blankets that were wrapped around her, her chest barely rising with her quietly rasping breaths. Her ashen skin nearly blended into the bandages that were wrapped thickly about her neck; the only colour on her body was the red soaking through the bandages, and her limp dark hair pooled around her face. With shaking hands Ron moved aside the edge of the blankets and saw similar bandages covering her upper body and legs.

Ron could feel his heartbeat speed up, thumping so hard in his chest that it was making it hard to take a breath, hard to swallow.

"Bill-" he finally spit out, "Bill, why haven't you healed her? Why is she like this?" He was shaking, not understanding what was going on, confused over what had happened when he hadn't been awake. Terrified of the sight of Hermione, so fragile, so limp, so broken.

Bill looked at him and then Harry beside him, and slowly shook his head. "Ron…Ron, I told you before…With the extent that Hermione was tortured, the dark magic has left a sort of residue in her. It's preventing me from healing her with magic, it's why Crucio is one of the unforgivables. We're going to have to let her heal naturally, there's nothing else that can be done for now…"

Ron suddenly had a faint memory of Bill having told him this, bits and pieces. There was something else, though. She had woken, he remembered, and was ranting about…Fifth Year, Harry, and Sirius. She hadn't known where or even when she was, what had happened.

"Bill…her mind…do we know-…" Ron almost couldn't bring himself to say it, as though saying it would make the worst become reality.

Bill just shook his head again, "We can't tell yet, you need to give it time, give her time to heal. There's nothing we can do, just wait. And not lose hope. Hermione is one of the smartest witches I have ever met, if anyone has a fighting chance it's her." Bill gave him a tentative smile, and Ron knew he really meant it. Bill had never been a good liar.

Ron looked down to his hands, clenched together in his lap, and suddenly felt nauseas. He was covered in dark dried blood, his shirt and pants dry and sticking to his skin. Hermione's blood. He closed his eyes and covered his mouth, trying not to allow himself to gag, to fall back into the horror of his memories.

Someone must have noticed he was about to be sick because suddenly they were hauling him off the edge of the bed, supporting him as they walked quickly into the hallway, down to the little bathroom. Ron awkwardly felt down to his knees in front of the toilet and began throwing up bile, the memories of Malfoy Manor slamming into his mind at his vulnerability. Of their almost failed escape.

He was finally able to stop and rested his head on his knees, his body still shaking. A cup of water was handed to him once again and he gratefully took it and drank it down, not caring that his shaking hands were sloshing water down him.

"Ron, I'm so sorry, it took so long to clean up and bandage Hermione and everybody else that we didn't get around to switching your clothes yet. I'm so sorry…" Bill's remorseful voice spoke softly behind him.

Ron couldn't bring himself to speak just yet, so just turned and shrugged his shoulders at his brother, trying to tell him that it didn't matter, it wasn't his fault.

"Maybe you should take a shower…Harry is keeping an eye on Hermione, I'll bring you some clean clothes. Are you up to that?"

Ron shook his head. He just wanted to wash it all away, the dirt, the blood, the dark memories. Bill wordlessly helped him off the floor to sit on the edge of the antique tub. Ron tried to pull his arms out of the sleeves but gasped as a burning pain shot through his chest and back at the movement.

"Put your head down, Ron" Bill murmured to him, helping to unstuck and pull his jumper off without moving too much. Ron knew without looking that his skin was covered in dried stains of red, confirmed by Bill's quick intake of breath. He felt his brother squeeze his shoulder with a warm hand.

"You okay from here?" Ron nodded his head and Bill squeezed his shoulder again before moving out the bathroom door, shutting it quietly behind him.

Ron slowly peeled his worn jeans off his legs, trying to ignore the flakes of red that fell to the floor. He suddenly remembered that these were the jeans that Hermione had packed for him, that he had complained were too tight all those months ago. They were soaked in her blood now. He felt sick again.

He dropped his head to hang, leaning his elbows on his knees, waiting for the sick feeling to pass. None of this made sense. None of this should have happened. How could they have possibly thought they could take down Voldemort. And live to tell the tale. Believe that everything would be fine, everything would go back to normal once they had finished their task. They were no closer to finished than they had been last summer, and now…

Ron wiped at his wet face with his hand and shakily pushed himself up enough to crawl into the tub. Feeling too drained to stand up, Ron reached behind him to turn the creaky taps on, and let the hot water wash over him. He couldn't help but stare horrified at the red water pooling in the tub underneath him, slowly running down the drain. It kept coming as the water poured down him, bright red. He didn't know how long he sat there, staring, before the water turned clear again, but he eventually heard banging on the door, probably someone calling in to see if he was alright. He must have been there for a while. He found a bar of soap sitting on the edge of the tub and quickly scrubbed his skin and hair, wanting to get back to Hermione. She might need him. He needed to be near her.

Ron carefully got out of the tub on wobbly legs, feeling like a baby taking its first steps, for lack of a better comparison. A fluffy towel sat on the edge of the sink, on top of a pile of fresh clothes that Ron guessed were probably Bill's. After he had pulled the clothes on, using the sink for support, Ron walked back down the hall with his hand against the wall.

Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed, Hermione's limp hand in his, looking down at her with a strange surprised look on his face. He must have heard the floor creak because he suddenly looked up at Ron, trying to force a smile onto his face.

"Alright?" Harry asked him, his voice slightly hoarse and shaky. Ron just nodded his head, reaching for a chair sitting beside the bed and carefully lowering himself into it. He leaned his forearms on the bed in front of him, resting his head against one arm as the other stretched to hesitantly brush the hair off Hermione's forehead, his fingers lingering to trace the edge of her still face. He knew Harry was watching, but didn't care.

"Any change?" he asked, hopefully. Harry just shook his head, looking down at Hermione's hand, squeezing it gently. He considered it for a while before speaking.

"Ron…there's something I need to tell you. When Dobby apparated the two of us away from the Manor, after…Bellatrix threw her knife at us…the same one she had to Hermione's kneck," Ron could see Harry tearing up, " It apparated with us…it killed Dobby…Dobby's dead Ron, he saved us, and now he's dead." Harry broke down at this, his grimy hand covering his face as his shoulders shook.

Ron couldn't respond at first. He had been sure they had all made it out, at least with their lives. It was because of Dobby that they had made it out of the dungeon. That they had been able to get Hermione out of there. That they had escaped once again.

He felt his own tears welling in his eyes, considering all this little creature had done for them. He wondered if Dobby had known the peril they had been in, how close they had been to failing their mission, losing this war. Then again, Dobby had always known everything, was always trying to keep Harry out of danger.

Harry continued after taking a few deep breaths. "I know Hermione would want to be there when-…when we bury Dobby…I asked Bill about it, he used a spell on Dobby so we could…wait…until Hermione wakes up."

Ron felt relieved that Harry had thought of this. Hermione would be devastated if she missed Dobby's funeral, after everything he had done for them. He knew this without a doubt.

"And Ron…Hermione _will_ wake up. She will. She has to…"

Harry's voice wavered slightly as he spoke, removing any hope of assurance. Ron continued to watch Hermione's face, looking for any change, any sign of movement. She was still and vacant, lost in a pile of bandages and blankets, the only sign of life the slight slow rise of her chest. He could feel doubt start to grow in the back of his mind.

Eventually Harry left to clean up, and Ron continued waiting by Hermione's bedside, his hand placed lightly on her stomache to feel any change in movement. He must have drifted off after a while because suddenly something was jostling his arm, and the room around him was becoming light again. It took him a few moments to realize why he had woken up until he lifted his head and saw Hermione's eyes open.

_A/N: Sorry, but I had to leave this on a bit of a cliffhanger! Next part of the story should be posted quite soon. Thanks to everyone who is continuing to read this story! Let me know what you think. _


	6. Fight Back

Tangled 

by Rsuth

_DISCLAIMER: As the author of this fanfiction story I do not, in any way, profit from the story or claim any rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe. All creative rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe belong to J.K. Rowling. Thank you for letting me play in this amazing world._

CHAPTER SIX

She was once again stuck floating in the darkness. No lights, no sounds, nothing. But she didn't care. She was safe here, she didn't feel pain here. The lights couldn't get her here. Something poked the edge of her consciousness, trying to wiggle itself towards her, but she wasn't ready to acknowledge it yet. Something told her she needed to stay in the dark, at least for a while.

Occasionally she would get a hint of something. A feeling. Something told her it was her hand, being pressed, grasped. A flash of a dark room around her, someone sitting near her. Maybe there was a thunderstorm, maybe that's why she was only getting flashes of the room in the darkness. She thought she recognized the person sitting near her, but they were gone too quickly, and the heavy darkness pushed the memory of them away from her.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She felt like something was pressing on her. Not painfully, but perhaps heavy enough to hold her down. This feeling started to come to her for longer periods of time, then leave her again. Maybe it was trying to tell her something, remind her of something. Was there something she needed to remember? It was so hard to think, everything was choppy and slow. Trying to escape her grasp.

Her room was illuminated again, another flash of light. She could see a white ceiling, a light. Why wasn't the light on before? Maybe that's what she had seen, not lightning. She couldn't move, her body was frozen, her chest heavy. The lights were wiggling into her vision again, bringing with them the burning throb. They covered her eyes, made it hard to see the room. She focused on them, tried to push them away from her once again, but they persisted, trying to overwhelm her with their pain.

Something pushed a few of the lights away. A sound. But she didn't know what it was, it was garbled from behind the crawling wall of lights. She wanted that sound again, wanted it to help free her from the burning lights. She focused on hearing it again. There it was again, a bit clearer this time, the sound finding a way through the gap in the lights. She knew that voice. Somehow she knew that voice. Knew it from her soul. It pushed through the lights once more, and they began to move away, traveling down her limbs, releasing their grasp on her frozen body, but instead leaving a trail of burning heat in their wake.

Somehow she managed to move her head, seeking the voice in the room. She couldn't see clearly, but knew it was him. She needed to tell him that he helped her, that he had freed her, but it was so hard to concentrate on the words she wanted to say. She was so tired, so confused, in so much pain. She concentrated on the one that mattered and forced her lips to move.

"Ron."

She didn't recognize her own voice, but she knew she had made that sound. He must have heard her because he gripped her hand. She wanted him to speak again, wanted to hear the voice that was pulling her away from the lights.

Someone was missing from the room, someone who was also usually beside her. Harry. A thought pushed its way from the back of her mind. She should be worried about something, something had happened. Why couldn't she remember? Her thoughts were just a swirling darkness, something she couldn't quite access. She needed to ask him, needed to make sure they were okay, even if she didn't know why.

"Are you okay? Is Harry okay?" She eventually pushed out, the words echoing sharply in her painful head, making it hard to breathe. Another squeeze to the hand, and she knew they were. But she knew she had to keep talking, even though the darkness was reaching up and twirling itself around her. She had to remember what she couldn't remember.

Maybe he could tell her where this room was, and why she could only see it sometimes.

"Where are we?" Her chest was heavy again, the darkness closer. But she needed to know, needed to make sense of what was happening around her. He spoke, but it was though he was far away, the wind blowing away part of what he was saying.

"_Bill…Cottage…Ocean_…" She nodded her head, trying to reassure him that she understood, but she was going back down, the darkness swirling into her thoughts, making her confused, trying to make her forget his words. She couldn't fight it anymore, so just let it take her.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

The lights returned, seeming to move at different spots around her, floating hazily and innocently until they would abruptly flare up and burn her, then just go back to floating. She watched them, not knowing what to expect next, trying to hide but never succeeding. It seemed like she had been there for an eternity, not able to find the room again, when unexpectedly she was aware that something was moving. She tried to move to see what it was, but she was stuck. She pushed against the darkness, trying to move it aside so she could see, but it fought with her, pushing against her with its bottomless weight. She needed to fight back. She had sought its refuge for so long, and now she wondered if it was bad, if it was evil despite the relief from the burning lights it provided. If it was tricking her into hiding within it, hiding her from her friends. She needed to get to them. She felt it holding her again, and she struggled and yelled at it,

"Why are you keeping me here?" she croaked out at it, surprised when the weight lifted off her, "I need to find Ron and Harry, they need to help me!" Her efforts left her with an intolerable stinging, a blasting heat shooting throughout her body, but the darkness stopped trying to pull her down. A voice shot through it, pushing it even further away. She was winning, she was so close.

"_Hermione…"_ the voice whispered, " _Hermione... right here, Ron and Harry…right here…need to sleep._" She could have cried with relief. They were there, they would help her escape. She needed to tell them, or she would never get away.

"Ron, help me, please. It won't let me go…It hurts…everything hurts…"

She tried to hold on, needed to see if anyone had heard her, had understood her, but it won again and she sank back down into the dark.

But she wasn't going to let it win this time.

She pushed against the boundaries, testing their taught edges as they bounced her away from them. They were waiting for her, Ron and Harry were there, waiting for her. Just on the other side. She focused her energy on pushing at one spot in the darkness, but it kept trying to distract her, tantalize her with an unsaid promise to keep her safe, keep her in a place where she could be nothing, feel nothing. She ignored it, ignored its long tendrils as it grasped at her. The more she fought it, the more it fought back.

It sent the lights after her, their cheerful colours deceiving as they burned her, changing into deep, throbbing shades of red. She was tempted to go back into the nothing, escape the pain, but she knew now that this was false, that she was imprisoned here. She pushed against the lights, trying to get them away from her so she could fight the dark, but they crowded her even closer, the pain and colour disorienting her, overwhelming her.

She didn't know how long she had been fighting , how close she was to giving up again when the voice, _his_ voice, broke through again.

"…_Wake up Hermione…"_ it whispered to her, echoing around her.

"…_We're lost without you_..." It pushed through the lights, releasing her slowly from their crowding. She had strength again, he was coming for her, coming to save her.

"…_I love you, Hermione…_" She felt the darkness release her from its grip, recede from her. She fought harder to push it away, so close to escaping.

"…_I'm sorry…I love you, come back to me..." _She could feel her body again, feel sense running up and down her limbs. She remembered…remembered that they had been captured…that Ron had saved her then, too. Her memories were returning to her, released from where they had been hidden behind the darkness and pain. She put all her effort into one last push, and suddenly she was in the room again, light burning her eyes, the scratch of fabric beneath her sore body, her breathing to loud for her ears. She blinked away the tears, needing to find him, wanting to tell him she was there. She was back.

"Ron."

_A/N: Next chapter will give context to what is happening around Hermione in this chapter. If this didn't make much sense to you, never fear it will all be explained! _


	7. Back to Me

Tangled 

by Rsuth

_DISCLAIMER: As the author of this fanfiction story I do not, in any way, profit from the story or claim any rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe. All creative rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe belong to J.K. Rowling. Thank you for letting me play in this amazing world._

CHAPTER SEVEN

"_And Ron…Hermione __**will**__ wake up. She will. She has to…" _

_Harry's voice wavered slightly as he spoke, removing any hope of assurance. Ron continued to watch Hermione's face, looking for any change, any sign of movement. She was still and vacant, lost in a pile of bandages and blankets, the only sign of life the slight slow rise of her chest. He could feel doubt start to grow in the back of his mind. _

_Eventually Harry left to clean up at his insistence, and Ron continued waiting by Hermione's bedside, his hand placed lightly on her stomache to feel any change in movement. He must have drifted off after a while because suddenly something was jostling his arm, and the room around him was becoming light again. It took him a few moments to realize why he had woken up until he lifted his head and saw Hermione's eyes open. _

"Hermione?" Ron asked softly, remembering what had happened the last time she woke up. She remained still, staring up at the ceiling, eyes glazed and unfocused. It didn't seem as though she had heard him at all.

Ron remotely heard a heavy chair scrape on the floor, and looked up to see Harry uncurl himself stiffly from a too-perfect armchair, and walk towards the door.

"I'll go get Bill…try to keep her awake," Harry whispered groggily as he walked quickly out of the room. He must have been sleeping as well.

Ron tried to get her attention again, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice, and sound calm. It was hard since his heard was pounding so hard he was sure it was making his body pulsate with each beat. "Hermione…can you hear me?" He squeezed the small hand closest to him. Nothing.

He hesitantly reached a hand over to her face, cupping her cheek. The skin was hot against his clammy hand. He looked closer, feeling his mind clearing from his nap, and noticed her skin was still too white, but flushed. The hair around her temples was damp, small curls laying stuck to her skin. Her glazed eyes were bloodshot, still staring at the ceiling despite his movement around her. It scared him.

Ron looked around him and saw a spare towel sitting on the bedside table. He gently patted it over her face, trying to bring her some comfort.

Hermione's eyes shifted, suddenly staring at his face. He froze as he noticed, not sure what to say or do. Her face remained vacant for a while, until she spoke with a rasping voice.

"Ron?"

He nodded his head slowly, holding his breath as he waited for her to speak again. He was sure he was going to pass out as the silent room rushed loudly in his ears, his chest refused to take a breath.

"Are you okay? Is Harry okay?" She forced out, the effort making her breathless.

He nodded again, squeezed her hand, wanting her to continue. He needed to know if she was okay, if her mind was intact, he was desperate to know.

"Where are we?"

He hesitated to tell her, not wanting to bring back bed memories yet. "Bill and Fleur's, Shell Cottage, it's beside the ocean…" which was just part of the truth, but would do for now. Hermione stared at him for a moment with confusion written on her face, nodded her head, and closed her eyes. "Hermione, please stay awake, just for a few minutes," he pleaded with her, but she didn't or couldn't hear him.

He heard quiet footsteps enter the room quickly behind him, and Bill and Fleur suddenly appeared on the opposite side of the bed. Bill knelt down on the bed carefully, moving as close to Hermione as he could. Ron felt a hand on his back and knew Harry was standing behind him.

"Hermione?" Bill tried tentatively, echoing Ron from minutes before. She didn't respond to him either, as the four of them stood around the bed.

"Bill, she spoke to me…asked me if me 'n Harry were okay, and where we are. I tried to keep her awake…" A thought dawned on him, "Bill, she's hot, maybe feverish…" Ron whispered, watching as his brother pulled back the blankets, and placed his hands on Hermione's face, arms. Without talking Bill started to unwind the bandages on her neck, revealing the barely closed raw wound. He continued onto her arm, quickly unwrapping the stained gauze, but stopped suddenly as Fleur squeezed his shoulder and gave him a look. He seemed to not know why she had stopped him for a moment, then looked over at Ron.

Bill cleared his throat. "Ron…did you see Hermione's arm before? Do you remember anything?"

Ron could feel them all looking at him expectantly, but was confused. Why would he remember her arm specifically, she was covered in cuts. He just shook his head.

"Ron…I…" Bill seemed to not be able to form a sentence, so just shook his head and continued unwrapping. The gauze stuck to the inside of her arm, and Bill winced as he gently eased it away. Hermione didn't even flinch.

Ron felt his blood boiling, and bile rising in up his throat as he saw her arm. Red, puffy, oozing blood and infection. But it was the cuts, roughly hewn into her forearm to read 'MUDBLOOD', that sickened him. He needed to hit something, needed to wake himself up from this terrible nightmare. He couldn't look away from it, from this terrible word that seemed to haunt Hermione from her first steps into the magical world. That meant she was being hunted for reasons more than being Harry's friend. One of the top Undesirables.

He felt like he was going to be sick again, and rushed back down to the bathroom to dry heave into the toilet. Tears ran down his pinched face as his body tried to relieve him of his memories, his guilt, but nothing would come out. He eventually sank to the floor, holding his arms around his aching stomache, trying to compose himself to go back in that room.

He sat for a few more minutes, until he felt as though he could stand again, and shakily walked out of the bathroom and down the hall. Harry was sitting outside the closed door of the bedroom Hermione was in, but rose once he saw him coming. Ron looked at the closed door, then back to his friend.

"They're taking the rest of the bandages off, looking her over. Fleur thought we shouldn't be in there for it..." Harry answered Ron's silent question. He looked at Ron for a moment, then reached his arms around his friend and pulled Ron to him.

Ron hugged Harry back, trying not to let hot tears drip out of his eyes. "Ron…we can't lose her…I'll never forgive myself…should never have let her come, this is all my fault. If only I hadn't said _his_ name…" Harry choked on his words, and Ron could feel a damp spot growing on his shoulder. For a moment he felt anger, knowing that this _had_ happened because of that small slip-up, that Hermione's future was uncertain because of one word. That all of their futures had almost ended because of one word. But he also knew Hermione wouldn't want that, knew that she would want Ron to tell Harry it was okay. Would tell him that their task was more important than their anger with each other. That Harry was too important.

He almost smiled, imagining her getting mad and telling him off. Merlin, he loved it when she was mad. He didn't know when that had changed, when he had stopped being annoyed by her bossiness and instead began to love it, antagonizing her on purpose to see her cheeks flush, her eyes brighten, her hair get curlier as it bounced around. Her voice would take on "_the tone_", as he and Harry called it. He missed that side of her, of their lives. They had all become too tired to put fun into arguing and lovingly baiting each other, more worried about finding enough food to have energy to travel every day. To think clearly, and stay alive.

Ron clapped Harry on the back and pulled away, trying to communicate to him that it was alright, that he was forgiven. They both wiped their faces and eyes and moved to sit, leaning against the wall. Ron listened for Hermione with his head tucked on his knees, ready to run in at any sign of life. He jiggled his legs impatiently, needing to be back in the room with her, but respecting her privacy. He was beginning to feel hungry, his stomache rumbling impatiently, but he ignored it. He was used to ignoring it.

Harry got up silently and walked down the hall and stairs, returning a few minutes later balancing two mugs and a plate. He put everything down onto the ground, sat down, and pressed a hot mug into Ron's hands.

"Eat. You haven't had anything in probably two days. You'll be no good to Hermione if you collapse from hunger, you know." Harry said this last part with dry humour, both of them knowing this to be a favourite line of hers lately. Ron let a chuckle escape at the memory and reached over to clink his mug with Harry's.

"Cheers." Ron tipped the mug to his mouth and was met by the taste of delicious chicken noodle soup, something they hadn't had in a really long time. It could be terrible chicken noodle soup and would still taste amazing to him. He drank the rest of the soup quickly, his stomache growling loudly as it was finally acknowledged. "No offence to Hermione's mushroom soup, but there's something so much more satisfying about chicken soup."

Harry hummed his agreement as he finished his own. "Probably something to do with the fact that it doesn't contain ingredients from the fungus family…" Both of them laughed lightly at this, feeling slightly relieved with the humour. They attacked the plate of cheese and fruit with the same vigour as the soup, trying to fill the void of time waiting for Bill and Fleur to finish, ignoring their fear for a short time.

Long after they had finished their meal the door to the bedroom finally opened. Ron almost jumped up, ready to run back inside, but Bill stepped out and held out a hand. He sank down to the floor with them and rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Fleur is just finishing putting something a little more comfortable on Hermione. She's still asleep, unconscious, what have you. Her body is trying to heal itself from the nerve damage of the Crucio, and fight the dark magic. That's why she has a fever. Her lack of sense…could be because of the fever, because of the pain. I don't think we can tell yet how…extensively… the Crucio has affected her…But Ron, I think the fact that she was asking about you and Harry is a good sign…" Bill went silent for a while, hanging his head down and closing his eyes, looking as tired as Ron felt. "I've taken the bandages off for now, most of the smaller cuts have closed over enough, and I think the wound on her arm needs to breathe…thank Merlin they made us learn basic Muggle healing as part of our training for curses, you never know what you're going to be up against with curses. We managed to get some muggle painkillers into her, as well as some water and broth. I'm not sure if anything will help the pain, but it's worth a shot…She…She's not in the best shape, I can tell you've all had a hard year, and I know it's not your fault... I think as long as we can keep getting some water and food into her she will heal fine, but she needs to wake up. If she doesn't get any better, I'm not sure what to do…she's a wanted muggleborn, and it's known she's travelling with Harry. That doesn't leave us many options."

Ron could hear desperation start to creep into Bill's voice, adding to his own worry. They were all out of their waters here, sitting ducks waiting for something to happen. Trapped at Shell Cottage in hiding, only slightly better than being on the run with their tent. Hermione still walking an uncertain fine line.

Ron felt something shake his arm and looked up, realizing that Bill was talking to him.

"Ron…did you hear me?...I asked how you were feeling, you look a little better than before."

He just shrugged his shoulders at his brother, " 'm alright."

Bill reached across the hall to him, cupping the side of his face with his hand and staring at him for a moment. He gave him a small smile, then pushed himself tiredly off the floor, squeezing Harry's shoulder. Fleur suddenly opened the door to Hermione's bedroom and walked out quickly, carrying with her a wad of bloody bandages, not stopping to even look at them. Ron was sure he saw tears on her pale face. He felt the nausea start to rise in his throat again, and took a few deep breaths and swallowed to try to force it back down

"Why don't you two go in and have a lie-down, we expanded the bed a bit. You can keep an eye on her that way, and maybe it will help her to have you both close. You both need to rest and recover a bit yourselves, and I'm sure Hermione would agree. Just be careful of her arm, and let me know if the fever gets worse. I need to check on everyone else." Bill gave them a small smile, clapped them each on the shoulder, and quickly followed his wife. Ron realized that he had almost forgotten about everyone else staying at the Cottage, he had been so wrapped up in Hermione. Mr. Ollivander, Dean, Luna. Griphook. He looked at Harry questioningly, but before he could even ask Harry answered his question.

"They'll recover, they just need proper food and some time to heal. Well…except for Dobby. I checked on everyone earlier" Ron sighed, grateful that Harry had remembered all he had forgotten, relieved that everyone else was alright. He nodded his head at Harry, and slowly walked into the bedroom.

Hermione was lying in the middle of the bed under a soft blanket, that state of her body less horrific without the blood and bandages. Fleur had dressed her in a soft nightgown, her infected arm propped on a pillow, shining with what Ron assumed was healing ointment. It brought the carved word into sharp relief, and Ron had to look away from it. She was still and lightly breathing, her face still flushed. A wet cloth had been left on her forehead.

Ron kicked off his trainers as he walked, drawing the drapes closed, and shrugging off his sweater. He paused by the side of the bed, and with an encouraging "go on, mate" from Harry, lifted the blanket and carefully crawled in beside Hermione, making sure he left space between them. He nodded at Harry, who seemed to be waiting for his approval, and watched as his friend did the same.

They lay there for a while, both watching Hermione between them. Eventually, Ron reached out and grasped her good hand, using his other hand to brush down her hair, stroke her face. Both boys started and froze in place as she suddenly opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling again. Her eyes were unfocused and glazed, and she took a few quick shallow breaths before she spoke.

"Why are you keeping me here?" she croaked out, her eyes started tearing up, "I need to find Ron and Harry, they need to help me!" Ron felt tears coming into his own eyes as he watched Hermione become distressed, her flushed face confused and angry as she tried to argue with him.

"Hermione…" Ron tried, speaking gently to her, running his hand up and down her arm, avoiding the raw wound. " Hermione... We're right here, Ron and Harry, we're right here beside you. Just relax, you need to sleep." Hermione continued to stare at the ceiling, her eyes seemingly blind, her chest rising and falling rapidly from her speech, her skin red and sweaty. Harry was sitting up on her other side, ready to run for Bill by the look of it.

"Ron?" she asked, doubtfully, and his chest squeezed so tight he had to take a moment before he could answer.

"Yes, it's Ron. We're at Bill and Fleur's cottage by the sea, remember? We're taking a small vacation. You need to get some sleep, you don't feel well," he told her, slowly and calmly, though he felt anything but. Her face crumpled, and she let her tears fall.

"Ron, help me, please. It won't let me go…It hurts…everything hurts…" she sobbed to him, letting her eyes close. Ron let his own tears fall, feeling so helpless that there was nothing he could really do… She didn't make sense… Harry was suddenly at his side, holding a fresh wet towel, which he took and with shaking hands dabbed over Hermione's face and neck. Her sobs gradually died down to a whimper as he continued to hold the cool towel to her skin. She eventually fell back into a restless sleep. Harry reached for the towel, taking it out of the room and returning with it wet again, silently taking his turn running it over Hermione's feverish skin. They wouldn't be sleeping.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooo

Morning fell again, and Ron and Harry were still sitting in the darkened bedroom, keeping a silent vigil by Hermione. Ron was beyond exhausted, feeling the strain of worry and fear, waiting for Hermione's next outburst. She had been waking up and ranting throughout the day and night, the fears in her tangled mind dominating these ramblings. Trying to escape, trying to get away from something. Since earlier that night she hadn't seemed to remember they were there, or recognize them. The small hope that Ron had been holding out since her recognition earlier was starting to crumble. He didn't understand what had happened. At the moment she was laying quietly and Ron couldn't help but let his mind race as he took in her impossibly pale skin, the black rings around her eyes, her sunken cheeks. Her too-thin frame. He vaguely wondered how he hadn't noticed these things before…surely with all the time he spent sneaking looks at her he would have noticed. Or Harry would have noticed.

Bill and Fleur had been coming in periodically to check on Hermione, trying to get her to swallow more pain reliever and fever reducer, cleaning her up and putting more medication on her arm. None of this seemed to be helping, and her fever was climbing dangerously high. Bill didn't know what to make of it, didn't understand her ramblings, kept telling them it was from the overused curse. Ron had been hearing arguing coming from down the halls that morning, bits and pieces floating into the room told him that it was Bill and Fleur arguing about what to do. Whether they could risk taking her to a muggle doctor, or if there were any trustworthy magic healers. If they could bring mum here without risking the safety of the family. They were getting desperate.

Ron sighed as he once again picked up the wet cloth and began to run it over Hermione's pale skin. She was definitely worse. Her hair and nightdress were damp from sweat again, despite having been changed not long before, her arm still puffy and inflamed, the small cuts covering her standing out raw. She was laying limply but restlessly, her eyelids twitching madly under their lids, her chest quickly rising with each shallow breath. He was trying to rack his brain, think of anything that could help her. They were all in deep water without their wands and potions. Bill, thank Merlin, knew enough to help her so far but even his knowledge was reaching its limits.

There had to be something else they could do.

He looked up at Harry, who was sitting on the other side of Hermione, slowly rubbing her hand. Throughout the night they had been getting desperate, ready to take Hermione and disappear, find someone who could help her without endangering his brother and Fleur, and the others hiding here. They would be taking a risk no matter what they did. He knew what they needed to do.

He could sense Harry looking at him, and raised his head to meet Harry's serious eyes. He saw fear, worry, and desperation reflected back at him.

"We need to get her out of here…" Ron whispered to him, not wanting his brother to hear them. He moved around to the other side of the bed to kneel beside his friend. Harry nodded back to him, and he knew he had come to the same conclusion. They were in a safe place, for now, but Hermione needed help and they couldn't bring help here.

"Where do we go?" Harry whispered back, placing his fingers behind his glasses to rub his eyes.

"I dunno, we could hide out somewhere like before, try to find someone we can trust." He knew he sounded desperate, that it might not work, but he needed to do something. They couldn't keep waiting to see if Hermione might recover. He would never forgive himself if there was something they should have done, but couldn't.

Harry nodded, and moved to stand. "I'll find our things, get them ready to go. You stay here, take care of her." He slipped out the doorway, closing it softly behind him.

Ron leaned forward onto the bed, laying his head on his arm as he watched Hermione and waited.

"Please, wake up Hermione," he quietly implored her, "we couldn't have got this far without you. We're lost without you. We'll probably lose this war without you to help us…" Ron could hear voices pick up from downstairs, but chose to ignore them. "But that's not why I need you to wake up. I…we've been friends for so long…since the Troll in first year…but it's more than that…I, er, fancy you, Hermione…more than fancy, actually…I love you, Hermione…I've loved you for years, I just didn't realize it. I'm so sorry…for every mean word I've said, for getting mad about stupid things, for trying to make you jealous by dating Lavender…for everything. I love you, Hermione, please come back to me so I can finally tell you…"

The arguing voices got closer, and then the door to the bedroom crashed open and Bill ran in, Harry and Fleur a few steps behind him.

"Ron, you CAN'T take her from here, you don't know that you'll be able to find help, SHE COULD DIE OUT THERE!" Bill bellowed at him, his frustration and desperation obvious in the way he paced at the foot of the bed, he muscles straining as he clenched his fists at his sides.

Ron could see Harry standing behind Bill near the doorway, trying to send him an apologetic look; he had probably been caught by his super-sensory brother. Ron rose from beside the bed, standing taller than his brother at his full height.

"She might die _here_, Bill. We're not going to just stay here and wait for that to happen, and keep putting everyone here in jeopardy. We are highly wanted to matter what we do, that hasn't changed. We need to try, she means _everything_ to us. To _me_…" he hissed at his brother, needing him to see reason, to accept their decision. "_Please_ Bill, please understand…" The tension in the room almost crackled as he faced his brother, both staring each other down, trying to win the argument.

"Ron?" a weak hoarse voice called from behind him. "Ron?" He turned quickly and knelt back beside the bed, expecting Hermione to be delirious, woken up from the noise. She was looking right at him.

"Ron… you saved me…I heard you in the dark…I fought back…" She tried again, slowly, her breathing heavy, eyes drooping, damp curls stuck to her cheek. "You saved me… I've been gone for so long…trying to get back." Tears slipped out of her eyes as she regarded him, and Ron picked up her hand to hold it close to his face, tears threatening to fall from his own eyes. "You love me…" she whispered to him, giving him a small smile. He nodded against her hand, reaching out to brush her wet hair from her forehead and place a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead.

"I love you…You came back to me…you came back to me…" he whispered back, knowing somehow that she really had come back to him this time.

oooooooooooooooooooo

_A/N: This isn't the end of the story yet, fear not, I mean to take it a bit further. I've gone quite far away from the original story at this point, but it's been a lot of fun writing it with my own ideas. I will tie it back into the canon story by the end._

_I really enjoyed writing these past two chapters to somewhat reflect some events at Malfoy Manor, at least for Hermione. Twice she had to battle the darkness, twice Ron was there to save her. I hope you all enjoyed how I wrote this, and am looking forward to reading your reviews!_


	8. Tumultuous Ocean

Tangled 

by Rsuth

_DISCLAIMER: As the author of this fanfiction story I do not, in any way, profit from the story or claim any rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe. All creative rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe belong to J.K. Rowling. Thank you for letting me play in this amazing world._

CHAPTER EIGHT

Hermione was struggling to keep her eyes open. She could see movement around her, but everything was moving too fast to focus on, to hear. Her hand was in his, grasped protectively in a warm and comforting embrace. It was her anchor, her reminder that she had escaped, that she was still in the land of the living.

She had broken free, had told him that she had heard him, but it was all she could manage. She was fighting sleep, wanting to savour her freedom, wanting to know what had happened during the blank lapse in her memory, but she was exhausted. Her body was still burning, aching, and she knew she should give into her urges and let it sleep, heal. She knew this time that the darkness was gone, that she wouldn't become trapped again, but it was still a fear.

In her haziness she felt a warm hand brush her hair off her hot face, and the press of soft lips on her forehead. Warmth around her other hand. They were both there, her boys were there, sitting beside her, keeping watch. She let sleep finally pull her down to its calm stillness, knowing they would be there when she woke.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Ron watched as Hermione's eyes drifted closed, opening a moment later to try to focus on the room around her. She had just woken up but looked as exhausted as she had when they had first arrived. He grasped her hand a little more firmly, wordlessly trying to tell her that he was there, that he was by her side.

He felt a squeeze of his shoulder and looked up to see Bill behind him, looking down at Hermione. He had forgotten that he wasn't alone. And realized that everyone had probably heard his confession of love...He could feel the back of his neck going red at the thought.

Bill quickly moved beside him and checked the now-sleeping Hermione over, timing her pulse, checking the swelling of her arm, feeling the temperature of her fever. He worked quietly and wordlessly until he finally pulled away, and turned to regard himself and Harry. He felt anxious butterflies flutter inside his tight stomache until Bill spoke again.

"I think she'll be okay. It'll take a little while for her to heal, and she's not quite out of the woods, but I think she's okay. I also think I know what happened to her, why it took so long for her to wake up, but I want to talk with Hermione before I say anything. She might have just proven herself to be the most remarkable witch of her time, _again_." Bill smiled down at him at this. "I'll come back in a while to try to wake her up if she doesn't herself, give her some pain reliever. I think she'll be okay for now, just keep an eye on that fever, and keep up with the cool cloth. And _stay here_, we're willing to take to risk." Bill squeezed his shoulder once more before walking out the door with his wife, closing the door softly behind him.

Ron sighed out loud, feeling as though the iron band that had been clamped around his heart and stomache for the past few days was releasing a bit.

Harry walked over to sit on the opposite side of the bed, his slumped posture revealing his relief. He reached out a slightly shaking hand to gently brush Hermione's hair off her face, bending to plant a kiss on her forehead. He took her other hand in his own and they both sat back in the silence again to wait.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo o

She could smell the ocean. The cool salty air brought a flash of a distant memory of the summer before Hogwarts. Dad had brought her to the seaside for a week, just the two of them, while Mum had gone away to visit relatives. They had swam, searched the sand for shells, laid on the hammock by the beach, read together. At 10 years old this trip had brought her complete happiness. She had been able to forget about the bullies from school, her lonely summer holiday, the nagging feeling that she wasn't quite normal.

She had been sad to leave, but sitting on a pile of mail in the front hallway on their return was a large envelope inked in fancy handwriting, made of rough paper. It was addressed to her. She had stared at the envelope for a moment, not knowing whether she should touch it, but something in her drew her to the envelope. She grabbed it before Dad came back inside and stuffed it in her book bag, running up the stairs to place it in her room with the rest of the luggage.

She had rushed to help Dad unpack the car and then excused herself, walking calmly up the stairs to not raise any suspicion. She grabbed the envelope and ran into her bathroom, where she wouldn't be disturbed for a while, and carefully ripped it open. The strong smell of fresh paper hit her nose and she closed her eyes, breathing in the scent like she did with each new book she opened. Curiously she pulled out just the top of the letter, stopping when she read the name of the sender: _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_. Wizardry?

She had stared at the letter for a while, not quite understanding what she was looking at, but her curiosity had won and she pulled out the rest of the letter. _To Miss Hermione Granger… _it had started, and she read through the rest of the strange letter which detailed her admittance, Fall start date, and book and supplies lists for this supposed magical school. She threw it to the ground once she had read it, clamping her hands over her eyes to stop hot tears from falling. It was just another prank, meant to mock her. Probably made by those awful girls at her school. She had ripped up the letter viciously and flushed it down the toilet.

Every day after that she would receive another letter, and throw it out in a new creative way. Mum, back from her trip, had caught her doing this one day and made her show her the letter. She had been angry as well, determined to figure out who was sending the letters, and call their parents. But one morning the letter didn't arrive and Hermione was relieved that she could stop thinking about it. But as she was sitting at the table eating breakfast that morning with her parents, a loud knock had sounded at the door. "Don't they know how to use a doorbell?" She remembered her Dad muttering as she moved to open the front door. On the other side was a strict-looking woman dressed in dark robes and a funny hat. In her hand was another one of those letters. "Miss Hermione Granger, I presume?"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooo

The strong smell of the ocean nudged her senses again and she realized that she had drifted off in her memories, stuck somewhere between sleep and daydream. She focused on the soft ocean breeze blowing on her face and let herself drift awake. She felt disjointed, confused about where she was, but something in her mind or body was making her feel fuzzy, unworried. She carefully flexed her hands and legs, surprised to find them stiff and sore. She stopped her movements instantly.

Slowly she opened her eyes, blinking against the warm sunlight that was crawling across the ceiling. She heard a soft snort nearby and turned her aching head carefully to the side, feeling something cool slide off her forehead. Red messy hair spilled over the quilt where Ron's head lay, his body looking uncomfortably hunched over in a small armchair beside her. She smiled at the sight, wincing as she moved a sore, bandaged arm sideways to rest her fingertips in his hair. It was smooth and silky, like she had always imagined, the red looking deep gold in the sunlight. He slept on, unaware of her touches.

A soft noise made her look away from Ron. Harry was getting to his feet sleepily, fixing his serious gaze on her after he hastily pushed his glasses on. He looked over towards her hand, which was still in Ron's hair, and grinned at her, moving to sit on the other side of the bed.

"Where am I, Harry" she croaked out, surprised at how weak her voice felt, like she had been sick for days. She watched curiously as Harry's face fell into a frown, which he quickly covered up with a forced smile. He carefully reached for her hand, giving it a small squeeze.

"Hermione…we're at Bill and Fleur's, do you remember?" he asked her cautiously, speaking calmly and slowly.

She tried to remember what he was telling her. Tried to search her brain for a memory that didn't seem to exist. With a sudden panic, she did remember that she had been trapped, trying to fight her way out of the darkness.

"I was trapped, Harry, that's the last thing I remember…" she told him honestly, watching as his stoic face flickered with confusion. "I remember…voices…Ron…he told me…" but she didn't finish that sentence, not wanting to say it in case it hadn't happened, not wanting to embarrass herself.

"He told you he loved you." Harry finished for her, smiling warmly at her as a faint blush rose up his neck.

She simply nodded at him, feeling relieved, overjoyed, and embarrassed in the same moment.

Harry looked over at Ron, who had managed to sleep on throughout their conversation (which was no surprise), and then back to her. "I'm supposed to let Bill know you're awake, are you alright if I leave for a few minutes? You could always try to wake Ron up if you need anything," he chuckled quietly. She just nodded up at him.

Harry reached to the side of her head, and a moment later she felt something cool placed on her forehead. It surprisingly felt really good, soothing, and she hadn't realized she felt hot and sticky until that moment.

"I'll be right back," he mouthed, creeping out of the room.

Hermione sighed as she tried to make her body relax. She hadn't felt too bad when she had first woken up, but now as she sat in the silence she felt as if she'd been in a fight with a dragon. Her body burned and ached all over, but worst of all her neck and bandaged arm seemed to throb with each heartbeat. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a position that didn't hurt, but the movement made her feel worse. She gasped quietly and closed her eyes tight, pushing her head hard into the pillow. She didn't want to wake Ron up and make him worry needlessly. She concentrated on his soft breath blowing against her arm, letting the methodical feeling soothe her.

"Hermione?" came a soft voice, after what seemed like hours. She opened her bleary eyes to see Harry set down a tray on a table next to the bed, and sit down beside her. "Are you alright? Are you in pain?" he whispered to her, looking concerned as he reached over and placed his hand on her forehead and cheek.

She simply nodded to him, knowing that she couldn't hide it. She had learned throughout the years not to hide from him, he was too observant.

"I let Bill know you're awake, he's coming up soon with something to help with the pain. He sent me up with something for you to eat first, if you can manage...some fresh bread and soup, it's really good."

Her stomache gave a gurgle and Harry's mouth twitched into a quick smile. "Here, let me help you sit up," he muttered as he rooted around on the floor, popping back up with a couple of pillows. He knelt back down beside her and gently pulled her upright, quickly stuffing the pillows behind her and laying her limp body back. She let him shift her, not feeling as though she even had the energy to lift her own head.

Hermione pinched her eyes closed against the dizziness that hit her with the change of position, and breathed deeply until it started to pass. Harry was waiting patiently beside her, and lifted the tray onto her lap once he saw she was fine.

She tried reaching for the large glass of water that was perched on the tray, but her hands were shaking too badly for her to grasp the glass. Harry moved to sit close beside her, reaching his hand around hers and holding the glass as well to help her bring it to her mouth. She eagerly gulped the water down, not realizing how thirsty she was until it touched her lips. Harry filled the empty glass with his wand, helping her to drink it as well.

She managed to pick up a piece of the fluffy buttered bread on her own, almost moaning at the taste as she was chewing. She nodded for Harry to take a piece.

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, her pain seeming duller as her stomache's needs were met. Harry had to spoon feed her the bowl of soup, her arms to weak and shaky to handle the spoon, but she didn't complain. She knew she would usually hate being helped like this, be embarrassed by it, but somehow she didn't care, her thoughts still feeling hazy and separate. Once she had finished, and turned down a second bowl, she let Harry take the tray away and lay her lower on the pillows. He placed his arm behind her pillows, and let her rest against him as they waited for Bill.

As they sat in silence she tried to figure out what day of the week it was, the date of the month, the time of day outside, but it was making her dizzy and confused. She knew she should be alarmed by this, that she had never had trouble remembering the most basic things, but gave up as her body throbbed, and her eyelids grew heavy. She left herself rest heavily against Harry, taking comfort in their sibling-like closeness, and fell towards sleep.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo o

Something startled her, and her body jerked hard as she was wrenched back to wakefulness. Tears came to her eyes as the movement woke up her pains and she let out a moan.

"Easy, easy, Hermione…try to relax…" A soft feminine voice told her, and she let herself take some jerking breaths before opening her eyes again. She was laying back down on the bed again, Harry was gone. A figure with long blonde hair was leaning over her, and she let her eyes focus on their face.

"Fleur…" she whispered. The older witch must have heard her because she gave her a soft smile, and placed her cool hand against her hot cheek.

"Bonjour, Hermione, it's been a while," she spoke quietly.

"Since you three jumped ship on my wedding night, if I remember correctly," came a joking deep voice from beside her. She turned her head towards the other voice.

"Bill…" she whispered in recognition. The older man, who looked so much like Ron, gave her a soft smile

"I'm glad to see you back, Hermione. You had us all worried for a while." He reached behind him. "We were just putting some more healing ointment on your cuts before you woke up again. I'm sorry we woke you."

Cuts? She didn't remember. She tried to lift her head to look down at her body but a sharp pain on her neck stopped her. She lifted her hand up to touch her neck but Fleur's soft but firm hand grasped it before she could, placing it back down on the mattress. She suddenly realized that she didn't have any clothes on underneath the blanket, they must have been removed at some point.

"Just close your eyes, cherie, Bill and I are almost done; you have some bad wounds that need to be looked after. I'll find you some clean clothes after, and you can have some pain potion."

"Ron?" She croaked out as she let her eyes close.

"They're both just outside, we thought you'd want your privacy." Fleur reassured her. She simply nodded her head to let her know she had heard and agreed.

Sleep seemed to be dragging her back down again, even though she had just woken up, but she gave in as she felt the blanket being moved, and the cold sting of something being dabbed over her body.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooo

Something jostled her and she listened to see what had woken her. She wasn't ready to open her eyes yet. She could feel that she was clothed again, and her body didn't seem to be burning and throbbing as severely as it had before.

Warmth spread through her as a warm body pressed closely to her, but didn't wrap itself around her. She inhaled deeply and recognized his scent immediately. She knew they had never been this close before, but ignored her embarrassment as she burrowed closer, pushing her hot face into his neck, placing her arms against his hard chest. She needed this, needed him.

A cautious arm slowly snaked around her under the blanket, and she sighed at the contact, nuzzling her face in his neck. She could feel his heart beating rapidly, and his chest jerking slightly with his slightly haggard breaths. Something dripped onto her cheek but she ignored it, letting the sound of his heart lull her back to sleep.

To be continued…

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooo

_A/N: I'm so sorry this chapter took me so long to post; I've had it mostly written for a while, but work and life got busy for a bit and I refuse to submit mediocre and rushed writing. This will be the last "slow" chapter, the next will pick up as Hermione starts to recover and has her memory jostled back to life. It will also be the first chapter to revolve outside of the bedroom, and with the other people who are at Shell Cottage. I felt this chapter had to be posted before I could continue. I have some free time coming up, so the next chapter should come up pretty quickly. Reviews are really appreciated, as always!_

_Have you read my new short story, _'Home'_, yet? It's another Hermione-centric story, focusing on the first days after the battle, and how the strain of the past year catches up to Hermione. It's written in a similar style to this story, so if you like 'Tangled' you might like 'Home'. Find it through my profile!_


	9. Dreams and Memories

Tangled 

by Rsuth

_DISCLAIMER: As the author of this fanfiction story I do not, in any way, profit from this story or claim any __rights__ to the 'Harry Potter' universe. All creative rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe belong to J.K. Rowling. Thank you for letting me play in this amazing world._

_A/N: If you haven't read the previous chapter (Ch. 8) yet, I suggest you do so before reading this chapter. Enjoy! _

CHAPTER NINE

As Ron woke, he could feel the cool salty breeze from an open window fluttering his hair, invading his nostrils. He hated that smell now, all it had represented in the past days was fear, worry, anxiety. Hopelessness. It made him feel sick.

He could feel an aching tightness in his back and neck and without opening his eyes knew he had fallen asleep slumped beside Hermione's bed.

_Hermione…_

He struggled to open his heavy and gritty eyes, anxious to know how she was, ashamed that he had fallen asleep while watching her. He couldn't afford to fall asleep and miss a minute with her, not now…

Muffling a groan, he flexed his muscles and forced his body back to sitting. Something touched his arm. Opening his blurry eyes, he could see someone sitting on the bed near him, watching him.

"Hermione?" he mumbled, hoping that she had miraculously woken up again and was feeling better, in the time he had been asleep. A deep, quiet chuckle was his response. _Harry_…

"If I said I _was _Hermione, would you tell me you loved me?" came the teasing answer, after a moment of silence. He felt his neck and ears flush as he rubbed his eyes, knowing now for sure that everyone had heard his proclamation earlier. But then again, he couldn't care less.

He could feel himself become serious as he considered Harry's words, and the months they had spent on the run, just the three of them. He finally opened his eyes again and saw Harry lounging on the bed beside Hermione, one arm laying protectively around her. A year ago, he would have been jealous at their closeness, but now he felt relieved that Harry had been with her while he was sleeping.

He glanced up at Harry, who looked tired and drawn, but had a smile on his face. His long messy hair and scruffy black beard somehow made him look comical, and Ron smiled back.

"I _do_ love you, you daft git…but don't tell Hermione, she might get jealous" He shot back, knowing that he meant it, but needing to relieve the seriousness with a joke. "How is she? Did she wake up at all?" He asked after they had sat in silence for a few minutes, letting his drowsiness wear off.

"She woke up for a bit, and managed to eat some soup and bread. She was still in a lot of pain. Bill's just finishing up a fresh batch of pain potion, they've been going through a lot of it downstairs… Her fever's still there, but I think it's a bit better. But Ron…I need to warn you, she was still a bit confused…she doesn't seem to remember much about what happened to her…" Harry looked away from him as he confessed this. "Though maybe that's for the best, for now…" he trailed off.

Ron let his head hang down, exhaling a deep, shuddering breath. He knew he was expecting too much, too soon, in her recovery, but this waiting was driving him mad.

The door to the room suddenly squeaked open, and his older brother popped his head in, looking around before backing into the room with a full tray. He wife followed behind him, holding something long a white in her arms, likely a fresh nightdress.

He watched his brother look Hermione over, and talk quietly with Harry, carefully moving her away from him to lay her down flat. She didn't respond, just lay limply as Bill moved her. Ron wished it were him moving her, touching her, holding her like Harry had been.

"Why don't you two go downstairs for a bit, get something to eat? Everyone else has been asking about you three, I think they could do with some new company." Ron stayed where he was sitting, not wanting to leave the bedroom. Leave _her_. "Ron, I promise I will come get you as soon as we are done, it won't take long…I promise." Bill reassured him.

Harry was standing in the doorway, and nodded at Ron to follow him. After a moment spent watching his brother take a number of bottles off the tray, he reluctantly followed Harry out the door, preparing himself for his first trip to the main floor of the cottage since they had arrived.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo 

Ron was sitting on the hearth in front of the crackling fireplace, feeling uncomfortable as he regarded the people around the small sitting room, chatting cheerfully with Harry. They were all content to pretend that nothing bad had happened to them for a while, but he was still so worried, and he couldn't seem to shake off the dark cloud that was still following him around. Only one person could make the cloud go away…and they were still lying unconscious upstairs.

He wasn't really paying attention to their conversation, just nursing a cup of hot coffee as he looked from person to person. Luna was closest to him, leaning back in a worn armchair. He had been shocked the most by her appearance, not having had a good look at her in the dim dungeon. Always a slender girl, her time in captivity had given her the look of fragility, her eyes and cheeks sunken and pale, her limbs thin and bony. Her long hair hung limply over her should in a messy braid. Dressed in what he could only assume was some of Fleur's dark clothing, she almost looked like a different person altogether. But, she was still breathing, still talking, still animatedly trying to convince everyone in the room about some strange mystical creature that lived in the sand dunes. "Good value", he remembered once saying about her, always having appreciated her strange views of the world and naïve hilarity.

Dean, on the other hand, didn't look too bad, almost the same as the cheerful but quiet boy he had shared a dorm with, trained in the D.A with. A few bruises marked his dark skin, some almost-healed scratches on his arms and face. Looks like fingernail scratches, Ron thought with a shudder. But his face was worried, despite the smile on his face towards Luna, and Ron could only guess that he was concerned about his family. Like Hermione, he remembered Dean was muggle-born, and he felt his dark mood lift a bit knowing they had busted him out of the Manor before he was handed over to the Ministry. Who knows what they would have done with him, what they're doing with all the captured muggle-borns.

Ron had seen Mr. Ollivander a number of times throughout his life, having been with Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ginny when they got their wands. Probably even Bill. He had been terrified of the man when it came his time to get his wand. He chuckled faintly, and looked up to see everyone staring curiously at him. He cleared his throat, and scratched the back of his head.

"I was just thinking back…well, the first time I got a wand from you, Mr. Ollivander, my brothers, Fred and George, had me convinced you weren't going to be able to find a wand for me, because I was a squib. I was terrified of coming into the wand shop, certain that it was going to mean bad news!"

Everyone gave a chuckle at this, having all met his brothers.

"If I remember, my dear boy," Mr. Ollivander's weak voice rasped out, "you had to try seven wands before one would even work for you. A difficult customer indeed." The old man gave another chuckle. Ron blushed a bit, remembering the anxiety of the day.

"Those two were always a terror! Who knew they'd go on to make more money than the rest of us with their Joke Shop…" came Bill's deep voice from where he was suddenly sitting at the bottom of the stairs, "I'll never forget the day they almost made you take an Unbreakable Vow, I've never seen mum and dad madder!" Ron smiled over at his brother as everyone laughed. He stood up quickly to walk over to Bill, who signalled to follow him into the kitchen.

"Is Hermione alright? Can I go back up?" he peppered his brother, eager to get back upstairs. He watched as his brother ignored him, pulling things out of the pantry, spooning something out of a pot.

"Ron, sit down," muttered his brother as he moved about the kitchen, and he pulled out a seat at the small table to wait. Bill set a plate of bread, and a bowl of steaming soup in front of him.

"Eat," he said as he sat in the other chair, a bowl of soup of his own in front of him, "I can see all your ribs Ron, and don't tell me you're not going to leave again as soon as you are able." Ron looked down at his bowl, not wanting to admit that Bill was right. "If mum knew I let you leave looking like a skeleton, she would have my hide…or my ponytail…" his brother joked, holding his long hair protectively.

Ron felt a smile turn his face up, and signed as he picked up his spoon as dug into the soup. His stomache growled loudly before he could even put the spoon in his mouth. He looked guiltily at Bill, who simply smirked at him, and started eating his own meal.

They ate in silence, and Ron managed to finish two bowls and a stack of bread before he was full. He pushed the bowl away, and got them both a fresh cup of coffee to sip on.

He could feel Bill watching him as he finished his coffee, and eventually looked up at his brother. Bill was waiting for him to look up.

"I know you can't tell me why you three are putting yourselves through this, risking so much, but I know it's something that Dumbledore assigned to Harry, and I respect that. You're not a child anymore, I think we all keep forgetting that…" Bill smiled at him, "I'm proud of you, you've had to face more obstacles in the past year, well the past seven years, than anyone in this family. And you've met them head-on.

"No I haven't" he whispered, "Bill, I'm a coward…I left them, you know that…" he still feeling guilty about leaving Harry and Hermione, the last time he had been at the cottage.

"No one can be strong and perfect all of the time, Ron."

"Hermione can…"

Bill chuckled. "Yes, if I've ever met anyone who could come close to that, it would be your Hermione." Ron felt his neck flushing again. _His_ Hermione. "But Ron…" he looked back up at his brother, "what she went through…what you _all_ went through…is probably going to leave its mark on her, as strong as she is. It will be up to you to help her, above anyone else. She's going to need you," Ron started to protest, terrified that he wouldn't be enough, but Bill interrupted, "She _does_ need you…you're who she asked for first, who she fought to wake up for. Anyone who has a pair of eyes, and who isn't either of you, can see she loves you as much as you love her."

Ron let his head drop as he thought about how they had arrived here, how she was lying unconscious upstairs, how there was no way that he could ever be enough for her.

"But Bill…I'm not enough…I've never been good at anything…especially with Hermione, I always seem to stick my foot in my mouth, hurt her feelings...Hell, I left her the last time we had a fight, walked away even though she was _screaming_ at me to come back." Ron felt his composure slip as he remembered back to that terrible night in the tent, and covered his face as tears started filling his eyes. That had been one of the worst moments of his life.

Bill stood up suddenly and walked to stand in front of him, placing his hands on Ron's slumped shoulders as he tried to wipe his eyes.

"Ron, I can't promise you anything, and I can't promise that you won't hurt her again. But I know that you love her, and that you'd do anything for her. You _are_ enough. You're who she wants, Ron…nobody else."

Both men whipped around as another voice startled them.

"I'm done upstairs, Hermione's still sleeping. I think that pain potion worked, Bill, she seems to be resting more comfortably, and her fever's down a bit." Fleur stood hesitantly in the doorway, probably having realizing she accidentally walked in on a private conversation. Ron felt awkward, wondering how much of the conversation she had heard.

"That's good, that's really good." Bill answered his wife, smiling genuinely at her. "It means her body is starting to respond to potions again, the dark residue from the Cruciatus is losing the battle with her body and magic. She'll heal much faster once the residue is completely gone, but this is a start…It's a really good sign, Ron."

He could feel his body get figuratively lighter for a moment as he considered what Bill had just told him. It's a good sign, _it's a good sign_. He had never lost hope, but these small triumphs were making it easier to believe everything would turn out fine.

"Why don't you go upstairs, Ron, and get some sleep. I think Hermione would appreciate you being close to her, it might help her heal faster, encourage her to keep fighting the after-effects of the curse." He must have sensed Ron's hesitation and longing at the thought of being so close, because he added, "I'm not mum, Ron, you won't be in trouble…go ahead, you need the sleep. If you need anything, just call for us."

Nodding at his brother and Fleur, Ron left the kitchen quickly and gulped at the thought of being so close to Hermione. What if she woke up and was mad that he was in bed with her? What if she didn't actually have feelings for him? What if she woke up and forgot that he had told her he loved her?

He suddenly realized he was standing at the door to her bedroom. He took a deep breath and quietly opened the door, slipping in and closing it behind him. The sun was just going down, bathing the room in a soft orange glow. He moved to stand beside the bed and stared down at Hermione. Her face looked relaxed and untroubled in sleep, this time, albeit a bit flushed. The sun was illuminating her hair, laying in a curly mass on her pillow, highlighted red and golden. He reached out carefully, and for the first time truly touched her hair. It was surprisingly soft, the curls wrapping firmly around his fingers as he moved them softly through it. She made a soft noise at his touch, and without a second thought he pulled off his shoes and socks, lifted up the covers, and slid in beside her.

Ron lay on his side, moving right beside her without touching her. He had never been this close to her before, not in this way. Hermione and Harry had always had a type of sibling closeness; she was comfortable with sitting close to him, laying her head against his shoulder when she wasn't feeling well, falling asleep with a book in her hands and her legs in his lap. He had always been a bit jealous of their closeness, because he could never find the courage to initiate that with her. He didn't condemn the physical nature of their relationship, though, both had grown up lonely and without any siblings, and he was happy they had each other to fill that void. But he always wished it was him that she lay against, sat close to.

He had almost lost the chance to experience being this close to her. He might have never been able to tell her he loved her, and that he wanted to be with her as her boyfriend, and hopefully husband someday. Almost lost the chance to protect her and see her through this war, with the promise of a bright and carefree future with their success. To begin their careers together, start their own family.

The tears that he had been trying to supress for days began falling earnestly, now that he was alone, now that he was thinking about all that might or might not have been if they hadn't been saved from the Manor. He tried to keep quiet, but his shoulders shook with the effort and he covered his face with his hand.

Suddenly, Hermione shifted in the bed and turned to press herself against him tightly, letting out a soft sigh as she nuzzled her hot face into his neck, pressed her hands against his chest, tangled her legs between his. He could feel his heart speed up at the wonderful feeling of her body molded against his, her soft lips brushing against his neck with her breaths, the warmth of her body seeping into his. He carefully reached an arm around her, not letting his full weight fall on her battered body. Her hair brushed up against his face and he inhaled deeply, surprised that although Hermione had been sick and bed-bound for days, she still smelled sweet.

He had almost lost this, forever.

Ron let the tears continue to drip down his face as he cradled Hermione, letting the faint beat of her heart relax and calm him, as his breathing slowed and he joined her in sleep.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooo

Something woke him. He blinked quickly as he opened his eyes, but the room was bathed in darkness, and he couldn't see anything.

His arms and chest were cold, and he reached down to pull down blanket back around himself and Hermione. The space beside him was empty. Panicking, he reached to the table beside him to turn on the lamp, which shocked the room with a blaze of bright light. Once he had blinked the spots from his eyes, he looked around frantically. Hermione wasn't there.

Ron quickly pushed the blanket off and pulled his shoes and socks back on, his heart suddenly pounding hard. He crept out of the bedroom and down the hallway, checking an empty bathroom, before taking the creaky steps downstairs by the light of his wand. Maybe she got hungry, or wanted a glass of water, he reasoned with himself. He didn't want to wake anyone else up until he was sure there was a need.

Downstairs, soft snores came from the darkened sitting room, where Dean and Harry were deep asleep on the couches. Ron shone the light around the room a few times, before giving up and moving around the rest of the downstairs, checking the hallway and cupboards, and finally the kitchen.

She wasn't anywhere to be found.

Ron's began to feel breathless as this sunk in. He didn't know what to do. He should probably wake Harry and his brother, they would know what to do. Ron gripped the kitchen counter hard, trying to compose himself before he ran to wake everyone up. He looked out the small window at the ocean, illuminated by a nearly full moon, and saw something dark lumped on the shore. He squinted at the object for a moment then took off running, the back door slapping shut loudly behind him.

His panic made him feel out of breath as he dropped to the wet sand beside Hermione. She was sitting with her knees drawn to her chest, one arm around them, her sore arm tucked against her chest. She was staring blankly out at the ocean, her eyes nearly black in the darkness, her white nightdress oddly bright in the moonlight. Her body was shaking, and he was surprised she had made it all the way out here without collapsing.

"Hermione, I need to get you back inside." He spoke quietly to her, worried when she didn't even acknowledge him. "Hermione?"

He moved close to her, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her body, trying to transfer some of his warmth to her chilled body. "Hermione?" he tried again.

This time, she slowly turned to face him, her face seemingly confused as she took in his presence beside her. "Ron?" she rasped out quietly, almost unbelievingly. "What are you doing here?"

What was he doing there? Where did she think she was? "Hermione…" he said gently, "we're at Bill and Fleur's cottage, remember? We ran into some trouble with Snatchers…you've been hurt, unwell, for days. What are you doing outside?"

"So…I'm not dreaming, then?" She whispered skeptically, looking closely at his face.

He almost smiled. Even when she was unwell, Hermione was trying to find answers. "No, you're very much awake right now."

"Oh…When I woke up, I couldn't remember where I was. I wasn't in my own bed, or in the tent, and you were laying me…" Ron blushed in the dark. "I honestly thought I was dreaming. So I got up, and next thing I knew I was sitting here, and there you were."

Ron didn't know what to say to her. He was almost afraid to speak, he hadn't heard her talk in full sentences in days, other than in fever dreams.

She spoke again, but her voice was so quiet he had to lean closer to hear her. "I've always loved the ocean, have I ever told you that? It reminds me of my parents. Dad, in particular…"

He pulled her a bit closer, wondering if he should take her inside, when he heard soft footsteps behind him. He craned his head to see Harry walking toward them, carrying something bulky in his arms.

Once Harry reached them, he wordlessly stood in front of them, unfolding a large blanket and wrapping it around them, taking a second and wrapping it around himself before he sat down and put an arm around Hermione as well.

"Harry." Hermione breathed, as he said beside her. Harry just smiled and kissed her on the temple, helping Ron rub her warm.

Harry looked questioningly at him above Hermione's head, but he could only shrug his shoulders. He didn't know what to tell Harry. So they sat in silence, and Hermione gradually stopped shivering and slumped heavily against him, still staring off into the ocean.

After a while she stirred, and slowly turned her marred arm over so the moonlight highlighted the letters cut into her flesh. She stared at it, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks and splashing onto her inflamed skin. Ron tried grasping her wrist to turn it away from her, but she ignored him.

"It wasn't a dream…" she whispered hoarsely, looking up from her arm to stare horrified at Harry, then himself. "We were captured, weren't we," she whispered, "We couldn't outrun them, and they took us to the Malfoy's, and they were arguing about whether they should call you-know-who…You were both taken away, and Bellatrx..she…she…" Hermione finally lost it, bending over and letting hoarse sobs shake her. Ron couldn't do anything more than to pull her against him, and let his own tears fall as hers wet his shirt. "I heard you, Ron, I heard you call out for me, so many times, and I held onto that, it pulled me out of the darkness, Ron…" Her sobs started to calm, and she gingerly pulled herself up far enough to look him in the eyes. "I've been so confused, Ron, so lost, I haven't been able to tell what's real, what's a dream. I don't even know where I've been, or what's happened..." Ron felt his heart ache at the lost look on her face.

"It was Dobby, Hermione…They threw us in that dungeon, and we couldn't find a way out. I called for help, and Dobby came to us. He got us out of the dungeon and back to you, and helped us escape. Luna, Mr. Ollivander, and a goblin escaped with us too. We've been at Bill's cottage ever since." Ron was relieved that Harry had responded, he didn't even know where to begin, how much to tell her.

Hermione simply nodded her head, leaning back tiredly against Ron. This had been too much for her, too soon. He watched her eyes drift shut and breathing slow, before he looked over to Harry.

"You should get her back to bed." His friend whispered to him, and he nodded back. Gently moving the sleeping Hermione so she leaned against Harry, Ron stood up, tucked the blanket around her, and carefully scooped her up into his arms.

He walked slowly, the sand shifting and sinking under his feet, and let Harry open the back door for them. The house was still quiet and dark, no one else had woken up. They walked through the house silently, and Ron nodded his head for Harry to follow them.

After wincing at every creak of the stairs, they quietly walked into the bedroom, and Ron lay Hermione down in the middle of the bed. She didn't stir. He pulled his wand out of his back pocket and spelled the three of them dry before kicking off his shoes, for the second time that night, and laying back down beside her. Harry did the same on the other side of Hermione, and they tucked the blanket around the three of them, trying to warm Hermione. In a way, Ron felt that this was the way it should be, that it had always been, with the both of them flanking Hermione, defending her, protecting her. This was what they understood, this was home.

_To Be Continued…_

_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooo_

_A/N: I have received so many wonderful, encouraging reviews for this story since I posted the first chapter, so I'd like to thank each and every one of you for continuously supporting my work and offering encouraging words. This really helps inspire me to keep writing. _

_Also, Have you read my new short story, _'**Home**'_, yet? It's another Hermione-centric story, focusing on the first days after the battle, and how the strain of the past year catches up to Hermione. It's written in a very similar style to this story, so if you like 'Tangled' you might like 'Home'. Find it through my profile! _

_Lastly! For all of you that read fanfiction on this site, please remember to leave reviews and comments for the works you read, often that is what readers look at before they will even start a story. I have read so many well-written, fantastic stories that have really low review counts, which baffles me. And I think those low reviews in turn discourage others from reading some great stories. I'm not saying this for my benefit, but more so for all the HP fanfiction writers on this site. My personal rule is that if I'm clicking the button to Follow or Favourite a story, then that author in particular deserves a review, as well as any story I've enjoyed reading. _


	10. Socks

Tangled 

by Rsuth

_DISCLAIMER: As the author of this fanfiction story I do not, in any way, profit from this story or claim any __rights__ to the 'Harry Potter' universe. All creative rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe belong to J.K. Rowling. Thank you for letting me play in this amazing world._

_A/N: Sorry for the long wait on this chapter, but I don't post until I am happy with what I've written, and sometimes creativity doesn't always come to me immediately. As a gift to you all for the wait, this is my longest chapter yet. If you haven't read the story for a while, or this is your first time to this story, I would suggest going back and reading the previous chapters or it won't make sense. All of the italicized dialogue near the end of the chapter is straight from the book, "Deathly Hallows". _

CHAPTER TEN

_Hermione was running along a soft beach, the bright sand reflecting the sparkling sun around her. Her dream self was laughing as she ran, slowing down and legs wobbling as her laughter made her gasp for breath. Looking behind her, she saw a younger version of her father chasing closely behind her, the warm wind ruffling his curly hair, snapping against his long swim trunks. He was laughing with outstretched arms, trying to catch her. _

_As she kept running, the sky suddenly went dark, the sand cold and colourless, the wind sharp and gusting. She looked behind her but her father was no longer there. Just a menacing, swirling black mass was following her now. She panicked and ran faster, the pain in her lungs sharp with the cold air, but could feel her predator getting closer to her heels._

"_Mudblood…" it chanted, its voice deep and indefinable, "you can't outrun us mudblood, we'll find you again. You're not smart enough, strong enough, fast enough…your filthy blood is no match for us…mudblood…mudblood…__**mudblood**__…__**MUDBLOOD**__!"_

_Hermione let out a yell as her foot caught on something and fell hard, her bare arms and legs scraping against the rough, wet sand. She quickly rolled herself over to meet her attacker, but nothing was there. Letting out a deep, shaky breath Hermione let herself lay back, looking up at the clouds in the grey sky above her._

"_Hermione…" a familiar voice whispered to her, " Hermione…you're safe now…" _

"_Ron?"_

_She saw a flicker of red out of the corner of her eye, but couldn't seem to move her head to look at him. "RON? HELP ME!" she called louder, needing him to come closer, help her get away from this beach._

"_Miss? Are you okay?" A deeper voice called out worriedly, and suddenly the beach was sunny and warm again, the sky above her clear and blue. Someone knelt down on the sand beside her, and she looked up to see the worried face of her father hovering over her._

"_Dad?" _

_Her father looked at her in blank confusion, shaking his head at her. "I'm sorry miss, you must be mistaking me for someone else. Is your family around? Are you hurt?"_

_Hermione stared back at him for a long moment before shaking her head and letting her father pull her to her feet. "No…I—I'm fine…sorry…" she said awkwardly._

"_Alright, well if you're sure." Her Dad smiled at her, and turned and walked down the beach, making his way to a young girl sitting underneath a bright umbrella. It was her. She watched as the younger version of herself ran up to her Dad, book hanging from her hand, excitedly showing him something in the palm of her hand._

_A chill fell over Hermione once again, as the sky turned dark above her, and she tried to move forward to warn her Dad and the younger Hermione to get off the beach, that it wasn't safe for them, they needed to hide. Her feet were rooted to the ground, and she fell back down as she struggled to move. Helplessly laying on her stomache, Hermione watched as the swirling mass appeared behind her Dad and slowly moved towards them. "Watch out!" She screamed, but the two didn't seem to hear her, or realize the danger they were in. "Behind you! RUN!" _

Hermione heard herself gasp as her body jerked awake. She needed to get back to them, needed to get back to the beach. Without opening her heavy eyes, Hermione felt something covering her, and fought away the material that was tangled and twisted around her arms and legs. Her flailing arms hit something solid, but she was too frantic to register what it was.

Forcing her eyes open to bright sunlight, Hermione pulled herself to the edge of the bed and rolled out, falling heavily to the ground when she tried to support her weight on weak legs. She heard herself cry out, but pushed herself up and nearly dragged herself the short distance to the open window, arms shaking as she pulled her body up far enough on the windowsill to look out at the beach.

Nothing was there. Not even a footstep in the wet sand.

It must have been a dream. It didn't actually happen. Hermione lay her head down on her arms, closing her eyes and breathing the salty air in heavily. Her ears were buzzing loudly, black spots floating behind her eyelids. It had seemed so real. But she was safe, she was at Bill's cottage with Harry and Ron, where they had gone after they had saved her from…She could feel her body trembling, and she tried to swallow and push down the hot tears that were welling behind her eyelids. _Calm down, Hermione, _she chanted in her head, _now is not the time for this._

Something pressing on her back startled her head up, and she turned to see Ron crouched beside her, his mouth moving, eyes wide and scared. She brought a hand up to rub her ear, the angry buzzing preventing her from hearing what he was saying. She sank slowly all the way to the floor, her body's strength giving out on her, and watched as Ron stood up and ran to the door, opening it and pausing, then running back to crouch beside her.

His warm hands were running up and down her shoulders and she turned her head to watch him, hypnotized by the movement of his hand.

When she looked up again, there were more people surrounding her. Harry standing behind Ron, Bill crouched beside him, his mouth moving as well. Was he talking to her? Didn't they understand that she couldn't hear them?

Suddenly she was being picked up off the ground by strong arms, and her head swam at the movement. She closed her eyes and let herself lay limply, not having the strength or resolve to do anything else. She was safe, her boys would protect her.

A soft surface under her back, and she let herself sink into it. She felt her breathing start to slow, the thumping beat of her heart calm down, and the trembling stop, but as it did a wave of aches and pains suddenly crashed down on her, seemingly having waited until she was more lucid to make themselves known. She inhaled sharply, and a familiar smell flooded her senses. Ron.

She reached a hand out blindly, needing to find him, touch him. A warm hand grasped her and she clung to it, letting the pain wash over her.

A hand lifted her head, a cold bottle was pressed to her lips, and she choked down the bitter liquid, letting its coolness wash down her body, soothe her aches. The mattress dipped around her, a warmth spread over her body and she leaned into it, inhaling his familiar scent and letting it carry her back into sleep.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Something warm was tucked around her middle, wrapped around her legs, and she opened her tender, heavy eyes to bright orange.

Hermione stared blankly for a moment, letting her blurry vision clear, before realizing she was looking closely at Ron, her cheek leaning against his favourite worn Cannon's shirt. He was deep asleep, laying on his side, his arm around her body. She shivered as she felt his soft leg hair crinkling against her bare legs, the gentle weight of his arm holding her tight, his breath ruffling her hair. She let her eyes close, not ready to let him know she was awake, not wanting to break the closeness.

"Hermione?" his sleepy voice whispered above her, startling her from her thoughts.

She slowly turned her head up to look at Ron, finding his worried eyes staring down at her, half-open with sleep.

"Are…are you alright?" he whispered to her, his eyes searching her face. "Can you hear me?"

Automatically she shook her head 'yes', wincing slightly as the movement pulled at a tight spot on her neck.

She took a few deep breaths and opened her eyes. Ron was waiting tensely beside her, looking as though he was ready to jump out of bed and call for help.

"I'm okay, Ron…really, just a bit sore." she lied to him, even knowing he would see through her false confidence and breathless voice. She vaguely remembered waking up earlier, getting out of bed, but the memory seemed distant and faded.

Ron frowned at her, raising his arm from around her to cup her face gently. "You and I both know you're not fine…Hermione," he faltered, "…you almost…I almost lost…" Ron gulped audibly and swallowed hard, ""I almost lost you, Hermione…and I almost didn't get a chance to tell you that…that I…I love you, Hermione, I have for a while."

Hermione felt her heart speed up again. Something told her she knew this, that she had heard this from him before, but it was a memory that she couldn't quite recall. She felt her eyes well up, having waited for him to tell her this since before that fiasco last year with Lavender Brown, almost having given up hope of this ever happening. A few tears slid down her face and Ron stared at her crestfallen.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I shouldn't have said it. You just woke up, and I sprang this on you, and you don't have to say it back. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Ron," Hermione interrupted his rambling, "Ron, I love you too…I have for a while."

She smiled as Ron's whole face lit up as he smiled back at her, dipping his head to press a long kiss into her hair. She pulled herself closer to him and simply let herself enjoy the closeness, the warmth of his body, the rapid beat of his heart beside her cheek.

After a while Ron pulled back and tipped her chin up to look at her face. "I'm going to go get Bill, he wanted me to come get him when you woke up. I imagine it's time for your next potions."

She shook her head vaguely, letting him help her roll onto her back and tucking her back in before he crept out the door. Not wanting to fall back asleep, she busied herself looking around the bedroom for the first time. The walls were built from pale stones and mortar, flecked with colourful stones and shells. Two large windows, with a small fireplace between them, covered the far wall, pale blue curtains fluttering against a small draft. A number of chairs were scattered around the room, a white armchair beside the bed had a rumpled blanket thrown on it. A small white table beside the bed had some empty mugs and plates stacked on it. Someone's discarded running shoes and pack, likely Harry's, had been tossed into the one corner. It looked as though they had been using this room for a while. How long had they been here?

A quiet knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and she turned her head to see Bill Weasley backing into the room, closing the door softly behind him. Looking at the stack of dishes on the table, he bent down and placed the tray from his hands onto the floor. He straightened up to his full height and beamed down at her. "Do you feel up to sitting?" He asked her, carefully pulling her to sitting and placing pillows behind her back after she nodded her consent. Without speaking he uncorked a few small bottles and held them up to her mouth and she drank them down, feeling a soothing warmth wash over her body.

Bill pulled one of the room's chairs close to her and sat down, and she watched as he held his wand over her and quietly muttered spells. Eventually he leaned back in his chair and relaxed, and she waited silently for him to talk to her.

"I'm glad to see you awake again, Hermione, you've been out of it for the better part of five days. Ron and Harry have been worried out of their mind."

"_Five_ _days?_" She squeaked out, taken completely by surprise.

Bill smiled at her sadly and shook his head. "It was five days this morning since you three dropped onto the beach. You're at our home, Shell Cottage. It's been in our family for quite a long time. We've been using it as a type of hideout since the War started, just after our wedding, really."

Hermione could only stare at him, not able to process that they had been there a week.

Bill must have seen her confusion, because he continued. "Hermione, five days ago I heard someone apparate loudly out on the beach, so I ran to check that it wasn't the enemy, that we hadn't been found. I saw Ron down the beach; he was on the ground, I thought he was hurt. When I reached him I realized that you were with him, unconscious, covered in cuts and blood. You both looked like hell. Harry arrived just moments after with the elf and the goblin." Bill paused and looked at her and she nodded at him to continue, his story prodding at her faint memories. "You had been…tortured…quite extensively…by Bellatrix LeStrange... When I went to heal you, my wand turned red-hot, useless against the strength of the Unforgiveable. Every time I tried, I…I couldn't heal you. I'd never seen anything like it. Fleur and I took care of you the best we could, I had been trained in a bit of muggle healing and that seemed to work. For days you were feverish, stuck in your dreams. Ron and Harry wouldn't leave your side, barely. And then, it seemed like you were fighting back, struggling to wake up."

Hermione could remember pieces of her dreams, "I remember that, Bill…I was stuck in the darkness, something was trying to drag me down, tempt me into giving up on waking up, making me forget who I was….for a while, I let it happen, but then I fought back…I heard…Ron's voice…I used it to pull myself away from it, to escape."

Bill just watched her for a moment before leaning forward and regarding her with a smile. "I had a theory…about what was happening to you, but I didn't think….Do you realize what you've done, Hermione? What this means?"

Hermione just shook her head, feeling too tired to rise to the challenge of figuring out what he was referring to.

"The curse…no one has ever been quite sure about what happens to the mind after someone has endured extensive Cruciatus. There's a gap in research because no one has ever come back from that…they end up like…like that Longbottom's parents. The ones at St. Mungo's. They lost themselves, and their sense of the world around them. I believe…that's what was happening to you. Almost _did_ happen to you. But you came back Hermione, you fought back against the curse, and you won." Bill sat shaking his head in disbelief as he watched her, but Hermione didn't know how to respond. She had been that close to being gone forever; turned into a mindless child, like Neville's parents. Having to be institutionalized. Her parents would never know what happened to her, they would be Wendell and Monica Wilkins for the rest of their lives.

Bill must have seen that she was getting upset because he reached over and took her closest hand between both of his. "Hermione, the important part is that you are alive, and that you are with us still. Ron never lost hope that you would come back to us…to _him_…and he was right. And just think of the good your experience will do in the healing world, what can be learned by this."

Hermione couldn't help but smile, knowing Bill was reaching out to her love of knowledge to console her. She nodded at him, to let him know she was alright, and she let herself relax back into the pillows, her hand still held comfortingly in Bill's.

She was feeling stronger, now that she had been awake for a while, and taken her potions. Her mind felt clear and sharp again.

"Where are Ron and Harry?"

Bill looked up at her, "They're…" his face fell, "your little elf friend, Dobby…didn't make it, Hermione. They've gone outside to find a spot to bury him…we were waiting until you woke up, Ron figured you'd want to be there. From what it sounds like, he's the reason you were all able to escape…From Harry's stories, it sounds like he was quite the elf."

Hermione could feel tears welling in her eyes. She hadn't expected that. "He _was_ quite the elf. A free elf. He loved socks…" she laughed through a sob. She looked towards the window, where she knew Harry and Ron were out digging a small grave. "Take me outside, Bill, I want to go help them…I _need_ to be there."

Bill shook his head, "Hermione, you've barely just woken up, you're in no shape to-"

"Bill, _please_, it sounds like he saved my life. I owe it to him. _Please_…"

Bill considered her words for a long moment before nodding his consent. "Let me help you sit up on the edge of the bed. If you can sit on your own for a few minutes without feeling too terrible, you can go out. I'll go get Fleur to help, though. And I think you'll need something a bit…warmer…before you go outside, it's a bit chilly by the water." Hermione looked down to see just a white nightgown and blushed slightly.

With a bit of careful maneuvering, Bill soon had her sitting up with her bare feet on the floor. Her body felt heavy and weak at the same time, her hands and feet slightly tight and swollen from disuse.

Before she knew it, Fleur was breezing into the room, chatting happily about how she was pleased to see Hermione awake, and other trivial things, and helped her change into a soft set of pants, a sweater, and her running shoes. Fleur ran a soft brush through her hair and pulled it back into a loose ponytail. She lastly wrapped her marred arm up in some antiseptic and gauze, mentioning something about the sand. Hermione looked away while she did this.

After she had assured Fleur that she felt well enough to go outside (though she truthfully didn't), the French woman called her husband back in, and between the two of them they supported Hermione for the achingly slow walk out of the bedroom. She refused to be carried, since she had somehow made it down the stairs and out to the beach once before by herself, from what she faintly remembered. Each step was heavy and painful, and made her want to do nothing more than go back to bed, but soon enough they had reached the bottom of the stairs, and stepped out the kitchen door.

It was beautiful.

The afternoon sun was bright and warm, despite it being spring, and the wind was pushing the loose sand over the grassy dunes. In this distance, Hermione could see a small group of people standing on a taller dune, their backs facing them.

With Fleur and Bill grasping her tightly, Hermione slowly made her way across the soft sand, which she was silently cursing because of its precarious footing, and started the uphill climb. By the top, Bill was nearly carrying her, as she was winded from the short walk, and had lost the little energy she possessed. They stopped at the top to give her a moment to catch her breath. The small preoccupied group had not seen them approaching yet, and Hermione was surprised by who was standing with Ron and Harry.

"Luna….Dean?" she thought to herself, and started to move forward again. When they had almost reached the group, Harry turned around to see them, and a large smile grew on his face. "Hermione!" he called, and walked the remaining steps between them. When he reached them, Hermione moved away from Bill and flung her good arm around Harry, pressing her cheek into his chest, as his arms came around her to support her.

"You shouldn't be out here, you should be in bed." Harry admonished her lightly, knowing from experience that she wasn't one to be told what to do.

Hermione pulled her head from his chest and looked up to him. "Bill's just told me everything that's happened…about Dobby too. I couldn't just stay inside, not after what he did for us." Harry's eyes shone brightly as he nodded his head.

Holding onto her, Harry turned himself around and grasped her around the waist, and then Ron was on her other side holding her tight, smiling down at her, pressing a kiss to her temple. She let herself lean against him as they started moving towards the rest of the group, feeling slightly awkward remembering their exchanged words from earlier.

Luna and Dean were waiting for them, the former standing with some wild yellow flowers tucked in her braid and in a small bouquet. Hermione almost stopped walking when she got a good look at Luna. The girl's hollow eyes and cheeks smiled at her, through faded bruises and scrapes. She looked like she had been through hell. Dean didn't look as emaciated, but his face was worried and older than she remembered.

"Luna…Dean…why are you both here? Luna, what happened to you?"

Harry gave her a squeeze. "They were being held in the dungeon of Malfoy Manor, along with Mister Ollivander. Dobby took them here, he saved them too."

"Dobby was such a nice elf," Luna's airy voice sang to her, "I owe him my life. I imagine Daddy must have been worried about me…I wasn't sure we were ever going to get out of there."

Hermione just gave her a sad smile and nodded. She had thought the same thing.

Everyone stood in silence until Ron suddenly let go of her and quickly shrugged out of his sweater, laying it down in the sand, reaching toward her to help her sit down. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief at sitting down, slightly regretting that she had walked this far when she glanced back at the cottage in the distance. Fleur sat down beside her, wrapped a heavy blanket and an arm around her, and encouraged her to lean against her. Luna knelt down on her other side and squeezed Hermione's hand, placing a clump of the wild flowers in her lap.

Ron was speaking quietly with Bill, who nodded his head and turned to walk back to the house. Hermione tried watching as Harry, Ron, and Dean solemnly finished digging a small grave, but let her eyes close while she waited; the bright sunlight was making them ache.

Soon enough, everyone started talking quietly and she opened her eyes to see that Bill had returned with the limp Dobby in his arms. Wordlessly, Harry shrugged out of his jacket and placed it around Dobby, and Bill lowered the small creature into his grave.

"Hold on," Ron muttered, and he sat down to pull his shoes and socks off, placing them gently on the elves feet. "Not quite the colour you would have chosen, Dobby. Sorry about that, mate."

Dean knelt down beside Ron to pull a knit hat off his head, placing it on Dobby's head, around his long ears.

As Hermione regarded the small, mischievous elf for the last time with tears swimming in her eyes, Luna stood up beside her to place her small bouquet in Dobby's hands, before addressing the small group.

"_I think we ought to say something. I'll go first, shall I? Thank you so much, Dobby, for rescuing me from that cellar. It's so unfair that you had to die when you were so good and brave. I'll always remember what you did for us. I hope you're happy now._"

Luna looked down at Ron, beside her. He cleared his throat and spoke with a teary voice. "_Yeah…thanks Dobby."_

"_Thanks._" muttered Dean.

Harry opened his mouth a few times, trying to speak, but eventually just sighed and said, "_Goodbye, Dobby_."

Bill used his wand to cover the grave with fresh dirt, and Hermione pushed herself to sit upright. She moved herself carefully off Ron's sweater on her knees, until she could reach the grave. She carefully pressed some of the flowers into the dirt so their colourful petals were facing the sky, and laid her palm onto the grave.

"Thank you, Dobby, for being a happy, free, elf, and for wearing all of my knitted hats…" she heard Ron snort softly behind her, and she smiled at the memory through her tears. "I'm sorry you had to clean the Gryffindor common room all by yourself, too. I promise that there will be other free elves like you, someday…Thank you for helping us. Thank you for saving our lives." She sat still beside the grave for a long moment, until someone's hands were touching her hunched shoulders. She looked up to see Ron above her.

"We should get you back inside. The sun's going down, and you're white as a ghost. I would tell Bill off for letting you out of bed, but I know you would have come out here whether they'd helped you or not, stubborn woman." Ron's smile took the edge off his words, and she reached out her arms to be pulled off the ground.

"Oh, no, you don't." Ron muttered softly to her. He tucked the blanket back around her shoulders, from where it had fallen behind her, and hooked his arms underneath her to lift her into his arms.

Hermione squeaked at his sudden move, but didn't protest. She was too tired out to protest.

"Harry?" Ron questioned his friend, and Hermione looked around to realize everyone else was already walking back, except the three of them.

"_D'you mind if I stay here a moment?_" Harry asked, as he took Hermione's place kneeling beside the grave.

"Alright, mate." Ron answered softly, and carefully started to pick his way down the dune, towards the cottage. Hermione grasped onto the front of his shirt, and let her head lean against his chest.

"Are you alright, Ron?" she questioned him softly. They hadn't had much of a chance to talk since she had woken up.

Ron stopped walking and looked down at her. "Now that you're awake and on the mend, I'm fine." He gave her a gentle smile and closed the distance to the house, walking through the kitchen door sideways without bumping her. Bill and Fleur were in the kitchen, making cups of tea, and smiled when they saw them come in.

"If you're feeling up to it, Hermione, we were going to have a bit of a party for Dobby." Bill told her as he showed her a cake he was cutting on the counter. Hermione looked up at Ron and nodded her head, not ready to go back to bed yet. Ron rolled his eyes good-naturedly and carried her into a small living room, setting her down carefully on the empty couch.

Hermione smiled to herself as Ron fussed over her, taking her shoes off, and tucking more blankets around her.

"I'll be right back," he told her, and brought them both a steaming cup of tea and piece of cake. He grabbed a few pillows from the room and sat down next to her, piling them on his lap and encouraging her to lay back against them, handing her the tea when she got settled. Hermione relaxed against Ron, closing her eyes as she sipped her tea, letting the warmth of the blanket soothe her aching and tired body.

She felt her legs being lifted and cracked her eyes open to see Harry sitting down, placing her covered feet in his lap. His eyes were rimmed with red, but he looked at her with a small smile on his face, and grasped her ankle in a sign of comfort that was familiar to them both.

Soon everyone, except for the bed-bound Mister Ollivander and Griphook, had gathered in the living room, and Bill was pouring out small glasses of Firewhisky for everyone. He winked at her as he gave her one as well, topped up a little higher than the others, mumbling that it couldn't hurt for her to sleep well.

Leaning against Ron, who had an arm wrapped around her middle, and with Harry at her feet, Hermione couldn't have felt any more at home as they toasted Dobby's life, and told stories of the funny little elf's exceptional life. She felt her eyes tear up on many occasions, not just because they had lost Dobby, but because she realized how close she came to joining him in a grave. She would have missed out on so much…the good and the bad. It had been close, but without Dobby she wouldn't have even stood that small chance at recovering.

"Here, here!" She called out to the last toast made by Harry ("To Dobby, whom I owe all of my socks!"), and drank her glass down.

Though the party continued to happen around her throughout the evening, Hermione let the Firewhisky work its magic and lay back against Ron with her eyes closed. He put his feet up on the coffee table and stretched out, pulling her more comfortably against him as Harry did the same on the other end.

She knew they still had so much to do, that their mission did not stop because they were at the protected Shell Cottage. They had lost out on enough days already, because of her. But for tonight she was content to lay back with her two best friends and let their worries wait until tomorrow.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

_A/N: Reviews are appreciated; I absolutely love reading what you all think. I've always had a bit of a fear of sharing my written work, but publishing fan fiction has really helped me begin to get over my worries about people reading and commenting on my work. You've all been so encouraging and kind. So thank you!_

_There is only going to be one more chapter left to go, which is going to finish the story and tie it back into the book. I will get it up as soon as I am able. And for those of you who are waiting for updates on my other stories, I'm getting to them for sure, they haven't been abandoned._


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